


How To Perform In Undercover Jobs Successfully

by hangoverhater



Series: The One With The Spies [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Spies & Secret Agents, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Torture, Violence, Work In Progress, implied prostitution, kinda yes, nothing graphic, wow this got dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangoverhater/pseuds/hangoverhater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving troubling intel from Tanaka's sister, Daichi sends his top three agents undercover to the club Saeko works at. Oikawa and Kuroo are fairly alright with their roles as bartender and bouncer, but Iwaizumi? No, he's not exactly screaming with joy at his part in the plan. At least he's got some semblance of rhythm.</p><p>They're not, however, prepared for what they find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which clothing is optional

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing your run-of-the-mill Stripper!AU, which then got sucked into my little Spy!verse. As is said in the tags, there's going to be some stripping, some violence (about as graphic as in previous fics I've written), and some dub-con. I haven't written anything graphically, but things are heavily implied and discussed by the characters, so you have that to look forward to.
> 
> I'm still working on the ending, but I've planned this to be around 5-6 chapters long. 
> 
> Without further ado, have at it!

It all started with Tanaka’s sister. 

Saeko worked as an exotic dancer at a club in the outskirts of the city. She’d told her brother that she suspected something other than the usual money laundering and tax evading was going on behind the scenes: some girls (and guys) had gone missing during the year she’d worked there.

The police weren’t investigating, because “they don’t give a shit about people like us, Ryuu,” Saeko had said. 

Tanaka brought his concerns to Daichi, who’d decided there wouldn’t be any harm in looking into things. 

 

“I’ve already sent Kuroo in to act as a bouncer. He’ll also be backup, in case things go sideways,” Daichi explained, reading from a file. “He’ll scout the place out before you’re up. Saeko also managed to get you and Oikawa jobs. Oikawa will start as a bartender in a week, and you’ll start in a month. Akaashi will be your remote support, so contact him if you need anything.”

Iwaizumi nodded, looking at the floor plans of the club. “And what’s my part in this?” He asked, glancing up at his boss.

Judging by the smile attempting to curl the corner of his mouth upwards, Daichi was definitely up to something. Iwaizumi already didn’t like it.

“How’s your rhythm, Iwaizumi?”

 

*

 

“Is he serious?” 

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “Yeah,” he mumbled, rinsing his mouth before walking back into the bedroom.

Oikawa was stretched out on the bed, watching him with appraising eyes. “As much as I appreciate your physique, Iwa-chan, I’d like to think that out of the two of us, I’m more of the stripper-type.”

“Apparently the owner likes his male dancers to be on the buff-side,” Iwaizumi shrugged, going to pull his shirt over his head when an insistent hand stopped him. 

He looked down to see Oikawa smirking at him. He knew that smirk. It usually meant that something nefarious was about to happen. That, or something very, very good. 

“Since you’re going to be acting as a stripper, you should take every opportunity to practice. You know, for authenticity,” Oikawa drawled, moving back to lie on the bed comfortably. “I’ll be judging your performance, of course.”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, taking a few steps closer to Oikawa’s side of the bed, a light sway in his hips as he moved. “And you’re probably the kind of judge that’s hard to please.”

“The hardest,” Oikawa said breezily, grabbing a remote from the night stand and turning the stereos on. He grinned happily when he heard a familiar beat fill the room softly. He nodded to Iwaizumi, flicking his wrist. “Please proceed.”

Iwaizumi listened for a moment before recognition dawned on him. “Did you have this ready?” he asked, swaying to the beat. His hands were playing on the hem of his shirt, lifting it to reveal his abs teasingly. 

Oikawa shook his head, his eyes glued to Iwaizumi’s hips. “Nope. Lucky coincidence,” he replied with a less than innocent smile. 

Iwaizumi huffed, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the hamper’s near vicinity. He began unbuckling his belt and slowly pulled it free, loop by loop. “Lucky you,” he murmured, unbuttoning his pants. 

Oikawa decided not to dignify that with a response. Once Iwaizumi’s pants were open, tantalizingly revealing his underwear, he sighed and got to his knees, moving to sit on his heels on the edge of the bed. He reached out and grabbed Iwaizumi by the belt loops and pulled him close. “You know what, I think that’s enough practice for one evening,” he whispered into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck.

Iwaizumi smirked, tangling his fingers into Oikawa’s hair. He loved that goddamn hair. It was soft, and just the perfect length to grip tight and pull. The best part was that, as much as he whined about him ‘abusing his luscious locks’, Oikawa absolutely loved getting his hair pulled. 

Which is exactly why he now pulled the man’s head back by his hair, relishing in the quiet gasp his lover let out. He leaned down, smiling against the other’s lips. “I agree.”

 

*

 

Kuroo rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t too happy with this particular assignment, but he did what he’s told. 

He just wished he didn’t have to spend his time shepherding drunken perverts. At least he was allowed to use a bit of force if anyone got too rowdy, unlike Oikawa, who was stuck behind the bar. 

Kuroo was also glad he didn’t have to dance around wearing next to nothing like Iwaizumi did. Then again, watching Iwaizumi do exactly that was one of the perks of this assignment. Watching Oikawa pine was another. 

He watched how a horny idiot slipped a few bills into a dancer’s panties. As much as he liked strippers and strip clubs in general, he didn’t like working in one. He’d been there for two months already, Oikawa a month and a half and Iwaizumi a month – how hadn’t they found anything substantial yet?

Wednesdays used to be quiet, until the owner they were currently investigating decided that, to attract more people on weeknights, Wednesdays were half-off. Drinks, cigarettes, lap dances, everything. It was no surprise that Wednesday was now possibly even rowdier than the average Friday or Saturday. Today, however, it had so far been a rather peaceful evening.

Oikawa glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 1:30, and the club closed at 2:30 on weeknights. They usually had four to five dancers per night, a couple more on the weekends. It was a generally understood practice that two dancers would remain until closing while the rest could clock out an hour earlier. 

He really wasn’t enjoying this undercover assignment. At all. He had to stay away from Iwaizumi for the sake of their cover, and he did, but it was so hard! 

While they’d found plenty of evidence against the owner (tax evasion being the least of the man’s ‘endeavours’), apparently everything they’d found was still ‘circumstantial’, and ‘would not hold up in court’. 

Oikawa sighed. He wasn’t made for this type of work. 

Luckily, it being as late as it was, the crowd was dispersing already. Most of the weeknight crowd were salarymen, who had to be at their offices early in the morning. Sometimes they came alone, sometimes they brought their clients with them. It was amazing how a couple of lap dances from the right dancer and some drinks could smooth over contract terms and such. 

They didn’t get a lot of women customers on weeknights. No, women seemed to prefer weekends, when they could ‘go crazy’ without having to worry about having a hangover at work the next day. 

Oikawa glanced at the stage nearest to the bar. Saeko was finishing up her last set. She was a beautiful, tall woman with a body worth killing for. She covered her normally short, blond hair with a long, black wig. She said it helped her stay ‘anonymous’, or as anonymous as one could at a place like this. There’d been a few incidents when some customer had tried to get a little something extra from her after her shift was over. They’d approached her because they recognized her hair, and she’d taken to wearing a wig while at work to keep that from happening. Saeko was tough and not afraid to defend herself if she needed to, and had proved capable during these incidents. Oikawa could definitely see how she and Tanaka were related.

She was due a break, Oikawa counted quickly, fixing her a drink as the last beats of the song rang out and she left the stage with bills sticking out from her underwear. Oikawa smiled. Tips weren’t half-off, even on Wednesdays. 

Another performance was starting on the second stage. Oikawa saw Kuroo discreetly make his way over to the bar. 

“Want me to stop serving them?” he asked, nodding towards the small group of businessmen sitting right by the stage.

Kuroo glanced at him and nodded once. “Probably for the best. They don’t seem like the type to make trouble, but you never know,” he said, sitting down and watching the room.

As Oikawa had predicted, Saeko came over to the bar and sat down next to Kuroo. She smiled brightly when Oikawa handed her the drink he’d made. Non-alcoholic, of course. She was driving home. 

“How’s it going?” she asked, taking a sip and sighing delightedly. 

Oikawa shrugged. “As you’d expect. Drunken idiots everywhere. How’s it going on your end?” he asked, leaning on the counter as he polished glasses. 

“It’s nice enough, no one’s been too handsy tonight, which is always a nice surprise,” she snickered. “Loverboy’s up next, by the way.”

“Huh?” Oikawa frowned in confusion before fixing Saeko an unimpressed stare. “Ha-ha, he’s not my ‘loverboy’,” he grumbled, handing Kuroo a glass of water.

Kuroo smirked, nudging Saeko. “Poor Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s blue-balling him so bad.” 

Oikawa glared daggers at Kuroo. The man was clearly enjoying his misery.

He’d suggested to Iwaizumi that maybe their ‘characters’ could be having an illicit affair or something, but the man had just glared at him, called him mean names, and walked away.

It was making Oikawa frustrated emotionally and, more importantly, sexually. Goddammit, Iwaizumi.

His musing were crudely interrupted by the sudden change of song. Oikawa looked up and saw the object of his affections walk to the centre of the stage almost lazily, his bare feet only adding to the nonchalant posture oozing confidence. 

Today seemed to be a costume day, as Iwaizumi was wearing a mock police outfit, complete with a hat, sunglasses, and a smug smirk. As the beat kicked off, he leaned his back against the pole and began rolling his hips. His lips parted as he sped up, opening his shirt in a torturously slow pace. Once the last button was undone, he dropped to his knees and arched his back, letting the shirt fall off his arms. His hips never stopped gyrating upwards, treating the men (and, surprisingly, a few women) to a fantasy-inducing scene. 

One slightly intoxicated and heavily blushing lady waved a bill towards him, and Oikawa figured it must’ve been a sizeable one because Iwaizumi took off his sunglasses with a predatory smirk and moved so he was within the woman’s reach. She slipped the bill into his pants, and he thanked her by holding her hand on his hip and allowing her a generous grope of his ass before slipping his sunglasses to her face and standing back up, all in a smooth move. The woman’s smile was wide, and one of her friends was actually fanning herself.

Oikawa filled a couple of orders, watching Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye. The song changed into another one, a more fast-paced one this time, instead of the slow and seductive one from before. 

Iwaizumi was now holding onto the pole, his arms above his head. He slid down, spreading his legs all the way into a split, much to the viewer’s delight if the ensuing applause and whistles were any indication. The smug smirk still in place, he pulled himself up easily, using only his arms. Once he was back up, he unbuckled his belt, throwing it carelessly towards the back of the stage. He opened his fly, winking at someone. Bills flew to his feet, but he ignored them. He hooked one of his legs around the pole and arched his back, leaning away from the pole. He let arms fall to his sides as he slowly and deliberately lifted his other leg off the ground as well, spinning slowly downwards.

Oikawa had to give it to the man, he’d never seen a man work a pole like that. Women, yes. Men, no. He hated the fact that he hadn’t seen Iwaizumi practice back at HQ. That would’ve been a situation worth taking advantage of.

As Iwaizumi was only a few inches off the floor, he pulled himself upright and climbed back up the pole. Once he was high enough, he threw his feet outwards in a wide arc, swinging himself around the pole a couple of times before slowing down and sliding back down, ending up back on his knees. Sweat was glistening on his body, and he took full advantage of it by trailing his hand from his throat, slowly over his heaving chest, pinching a nipple and opening his mouth in a silent gasp before letting his fingers sink beneath the waist band of his pants. 

Kuroo probably saw it before it happened, because he was on his feet fast as fuck. Oikawa frowned, about to ask what was up when his eyes widened. 

One of the businessmen had hopped up on the stage, making a drunken grab towards Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa had never seen Iwaizumi move that fast. One moment, he had his hand down his pants, the next he was sitting on the businessman’s back, holding his arm back.   
To the uninitiated, it looked like a part of the show, the way Iwaizumi was moving his body atop the man. He leaned down to whisper something into the man’s ear before pulling him up and helping him off the stage with a smirk. He looked up, locking his eyes with Kuroo before giving a tiny shake of his head.

Kuroo nodded and sat back down, a bit more tense than before. 

Iwaizumi finished his routine with flourish, tipping his hat exaggeratedly before collecting all the money from the stage and strolling backstage. Saeko left the bar, presumably to get ready for the last show. 

 

*

 

Saeko stepped out from behind the curtain in her new stage outfit. She smiled at Iwaizumi, who was buttoning up a white shirt. “You ready?”

Iwaizumi looked up and nodded. “Yep. You know, I never realized how much work this is,” he stated with a sigh. “Kind of puts things into perspective.”

Saeko shrugged. “It’s a way of life,” she grinned. “You know, when I told Ryuu about what’s been going on around here, I didn’t think something would actually be done about it.”

“Do you know what he does?” Iwaizumi asked, leaving the top two buttons open. 

“He’s never told me anything specific, just that he’s working as a pilot for a private company,” Saeko shook her head. “Kinda thought it meant something along the lines of being a rich dude’s pilot instead of some shady government-thing.”

“Not a government-thing, private sector,” Iwaizumi corrected. “Obviously I can’t tell you, but I’m just going to say that what he does makes a difference. Maybe not in a global-sense, but I certainly wouldn’t be here if he didn’t do what he does. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make any sense,” he rubbed the back of his head. 

Saeko laughed, reaching out to ruffle Iwaizumi’s hair. “It’s fine! I’m just glad he’s actually got a job instead of sitting around playing on his Xbox all day!”

Iwaizumi decided to refrain from mentioning that playing Xbox was basically all Tanaka and Noya did on their downtime.

“Anyway,” he pried her hand off of his head, “we should go out so we can actually get home at some point today.”

 

*

 

Oikawa glanced at the clock. It was now 2 o'clock, and they usually ended Wednesdays with a two-person performance. 

Soon enough, the rock music that usually played between dancers changed into a slower and smoother tune. Saeko walked out first, dressed in a black, knee-length trench coat and 3-inch heels. She smiled at the wolf-whistles as she stopped and stood at about halfway through the stage. She tilted her hips slightly forward and leaned her upper body back a bit, posing her head like she was looking over her shoulder. 

Iwaizumi stepped out, this time clad in black pants and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Two top buttons were open, revealing his collarbones. He made his way to Saeko slowly, swaying with the beat. He stopped to stand right behind Saeko with her back now leaning on his chest. He trailed his hands from her fingers to her shoulders teasingly before moving to caress her sides and hips. He gripped her hips, pulling her against him. 

They began moving their hips together, matching the beat perfectly. Saeko lifted her hands, grabbing Iwaizumi’s head and bringing it to her neck. He responded by making a show of licking her neck from the base to her ear. She leaned her head on his shoulder, moving her hands from Iwaizumi’s head to where his hands were resting on her hips, bringing them over her stomach to her chest. 

He lifted his head from her neck, gave a toothy grin to their audience and playfully squeezed her breasts, much to the men’s delight. Hands still together, they undid the belt on Saeko’s coat and began unbuttoning it. Once the coat was unbuttoned, Saeko put her hands to Iwaizumi’s neck while Iwaizumi caressed her stomach, opening the coat in the process. Beneath the coat, Saeko wore a set of black, lacy lingerie, complete with stockings and a garter belt. 

They both smiled smugly at the enthusiastic whistling before Iwaizumi whirled Saeko around to face him. Saeko let her arms rest on her sides, leaning her shoulders back as he slid the coat off her shoulders. Once the coat was on her elbows, revealing her upper back, she stopped him, putting her hands on his chest to keep the coat mostly on. 

Iwaizumi rested his hands on her waist as he walked her towards the front of the stage carefully step by step. When they were at the pole, he lifted her off the ground effortlessly and turned them around so that his back was to the pole. He set her back down softly and moved his hands behind his back. 

Saeko trailed her hands all over his chest before grabbing the shirt and tearing it open, sending some buttons flying. She opened the shirt generously and let it fall off his shoulders, stepping closer to him. Her hands were all over him again, and she sent a wink to the ladies in the audience over his shoulder before grabbing his ass. She then slid down Iwaizumi’s body, stopping when she was on her knees in front of him. She unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it somewhere behind them. She got back up with a slow sashay of her hips, standing in front of him.

The coat was discarded, along with the fairly ruined shirt. As the music picked up the pace, they swapped their positions smoothly so that Saeko had her back to the pole and Iwaizumi stood in front of her. She grabbed the pole from above her head as Iwaizumi grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up. Saeko arched her back, holding onto the pole as he began rolling his hips upwards. Their bodies moved together like they were one being, but it was probably their expressive faces that truly sold the act. 

Iwaizumi slowed down with the music, bringing Saeko’s legs back down as he kneeled down in front of her, keeping his hands high on the back of her thighs. Once she had her feet steady, Saeko let go of the pole and held her chest with one hand while burying her other hand into Iwaizumi’s hair. She smiled lazily, swaying her hips to the last beats.

When the song finally ended, Iwaizumi smoothly gathered the money that had piled on the stage and their discarded clothes while Saeko stood next to him, smiling and fanning herself exaggeratedly. When Iwaizumi was back on his feet as well, they gave a small bow before walking backstage, Saeko keeping her hand on Iwaizumi’s ass all the way.

Oikawa and Kuroo clapped with their guests briefly before returning to their club-closing duties, which mainly consisted of Oikawa counting the till while Kuroo ushered the guests out. 

Saeko and Iwaizumi reappeared at 2:30, when they knew all the guests had left. Saeko had removed her wig and most of her make-up and changed into a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. She’d swapped her heels into more comfortable biker boots. Iwaizumi had changed into a pair of tattered jeans with paint stains and a hoodie. They leaned on each other as they walked up to the bar and sat down tiredly. 

“Nice work as usual!” Oikawa chirped, leaving the till for until he’d given his friends something to drink. Saeko received another one of Oikawa’s non-alcoholic concoctions, while Iwaizumi received his favourite after work drink: a shot of tequila. He placed a glass of water next to the shot glass.

That was another thing Oikawa would never understand. Tequila. He’d drunk the stuff during college, like everyone, but had had the good sense to stop after he graduated. What was even worse was that Iwaizumi drank the stuff like it was, without the usual salt and lemon. And here he’d thought the man preferred whiskey.

Iwaizumi threw back the shot and let his forehead hit the counter. “What the fuck, it’s only Wednesday,” he groaned, lifting the shot glass for a refill. 

Oikawa filled his glass dutifully, shaking his head. “What happened earlier? Kuroo was ready to go,” he asked curiously, putting the bottle down next to Iwaizumi and leaned on the counter.

“Some guy thought me sticking a hand down my pants was an invitation,” Iwaizumi lifted his head, bracing his elbow on the counter and resting his head on his hand. “I told him he better leave a great fucking tip if he didn’t want our bouncer to throw him out on his ass in front of his clients.”

“So did he? Leave a big tip?” Saeko asked, sipping her own drink through a straw. 

Iwaizumi grinned, pulling out a few bills from his pocket. “I don’t know, is five hundred bucks a big tip?”

Oikawa’s eyes widened, as did Saeko’s. Iwaizumi snickered, handing both of them a hundred-dollar bill before putting one beneath the glass of water and putting the remaining two hundred back into his pocket. “It’s a little much,” he shrugged, pouring himself a third shot. 

“Iwa-chan, I can’t take this,” Oikawa shook his head, holding the bill out to him.

Iwaizumi shook his head, sipping _(sipping!)_ his shot. “No. You work just as hard as we do, not to mention the fact that you keep people drunk enough to throw money at us, but sober enough to not harass us,” he said seriously. 

Saeko nodded with a smile, pocketing her share. “He’s right, you know,” she raised an eyebrow at him. “You take care of us like that. We appreciate it.”

Kuroo strolled over to them before Oikawa had a chance to reply. Iwaizumi handed him the bill he’d put beneath the water. Kuroo blinked, but pocketed the money anyway. “I could’ve kicked him out, you know.”

“It was nothing. He was just… overexcited, I think,” Iwaizumi summarized with a small shrug. He threw back what was left in his glass, and poured himself a fourth shot before holding the bottle out to Oikawa. “You better keep that away from me, otherwise I’ll be too hungover to work tomorrow.”

Oikawa chuckled. “What a shame that would be,” he smirked, shelving the tequila to where he kept the ‘staff drinks’. It wasn’t exactly allowed, but as long as Oikawa was in charge of the bar, the dancers were getting whatever they wanted. The owner turned a blind eye to all that was happening in the club. He didn’t care, just as long as there was no trouble and the books were kept properly. 

Come to think of it, this was probably the first hint that something was going on behind the scenes.

Iwaizumi smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to be pouring drinks instead of watching the show?”

Oikawa shrugged nonchalantly. “I have wandering eyes.”

Saeko finished her drink, slapping Iwaizumi on the back. “Come on then, Iwaizumi.” Whenever they were the last two working, Saeko gave Iwaizumi a ride home. Oikawa would’ve been jealous if he didn’t know what was truly going on. “Actually, Oikawa said he’d give me a ride home.”

…Come again?

Iwaizumi was raising an eyebrow at him. Saeko looked delighted and slightly astonished at the same time. Oikawa recovered quickly enough.

“I did,” he confirmed, taking a glass of water for himself. “You two can go ahead, I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

Saeko glanced at Kuroo before nodding. “Um. Alright then, take care,” she made a ‘call me’ –gesture at Iwaizumi as she got out of her seat gracefully.

Kuroo hopped off his stool as well, offering his arm to Saeko. “Might I offer the lady some company to her car?” He bowed, making both Oikawa and Iwaizumi snicker.

“The lady accepts,” Saeko accepted in delight, theatrically curtseying before grabbing Kuroo’s arm and waving the two still at the bar goodbye. “Bye, behave yourselves!”

Kuroo glanced back at them, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, waving back. “Never,” he called back, smiling at Saeko’s snort before turning back towards Oikawa. 

Oikawa looked at him, considering. “So, what’s up?” he asked eventually, leaning on the bar.

Iwaizumi grabbed him by the collar and pulled him further over the counter, kissing him aggressively the second he was close enough.

Oikawa kissed back enthusiastically. It had been too long since there’d been any actual contact between them. Stolen kisses in the stock room and behind the curtain weren’t enough. 

When he’d accepted the job, Oikawa had also accepted not being able to be as close to his lover as he’d grown accustomed to. He’d relished in the fact that at least he’d get to enjoy the show and ogle to his heart’s content.

….Except that he didn’t. Get to ogle. It was _very_ disappointing. 

He pulled back with a bite on Iwaizumi’s lower lip, smirking at the frustrated little groan the man made. 

“I hate this job,” Iwaizumi mumbled, leaning back to put some space between them. 

Oikawa nodded with a sigh. “Me too.”


	2. In which things escalate in a speedy manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long-awaited evidence surfaces, choices are made, and plans put into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, I feel like I should warn you. There's a bit of that tagged dub-con in this chapter, but it's certainly not graphic. Just heavily implied. By that I mean there's talk about specific sexual acts, but not the acts themselves. I prefer not to write that stuff out. 
> 
> Alright, now that that's out of the way, have at it!

Iwaizumi woke up to Oikawa singing in the shower. He looked at the ceiling, recognising the song to be one of Oikawa’s favourites. “Put another dime in the juke box, baby,” he hummed along with his lover, getting out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

“Good morning,” he greeted, grabbing a toothbrush from the cup by the sink.

Oikawa shrieked and almost fell on his ass. “You scared the hell out of me!” he yelled, pulling the shower curtain back enough to glare at Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi snorted when he spotted the mess of shampoo that was Oikawa’s hair. “Nice foam-do,” he quipped, beginning to brush his teeth. 

Oikawa huffed, yanking the curtain back and rinsing his hair. “You’re mean in the morning,” he muttered.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, looking at himself through the mirror. The bags under his eyes were smaller than usual, which he was pretty sure was due to a good night’s rest for the first time since they’d started this job. 

Since their cover dictated that they weren’t together, they had separate apartments. Both of them hated the arrangement with passion, but Iwaizumi wasn’t about to take the risk of someone getting the drop on them just because they couldn’t keep their paws off each other.

But did it have to be so goddamn hard?

“I’ve got tonight off, so I was thinking I’d do some snooping outside the club?” Oikawa’s voice pulled the emergency brake on that particular train of thought.

“Huh?” he replied intelligently.

Oikawa pulled the curtain back again. “Are your ears more fucked up than usual, Hajime?” he asked with a teasing grin. “Snooping? Surveillance? That kind of thing.”

Iwaizumi blinked. “Oh, okay,” he nodded, spitting out the excess foam and setting the toothbrush away. “Hey, can you come into the bedroom for a sec?” he asked, leaving the bathroom before Oikawa could answer.

“I’m in the middle of—ahh, to hell with it,” Oikawa muttered, turning the water off and drying himself off haphazardly and following Iwaizumi to the bedroom. 

The man in question was sitting on the bed, holding a box in his hand. “Happy two-year anniversary, Tooru,” he said with a smile, holding the box out for Oikawa.

Oikawa’s eyes widened and he gasped. He’d completely forgotten! “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I completely forgot!” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi shook his head with a laugh, putting the box on the bed and pulling Oikawa in for a hug. “I don’t mind, you’ve got other things on your mind. Besides, I got this well before we were assigned this job, so…” he trailed off, pulling back from the hug and holding the box out for Oikawa again. 

Oikawa felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest and run out the window. His shoulders slumped, and he looked at Iwaizumi, his gaze filled with affection and love. He took the box and opened it curiously. 

A watch. A beautiful, titanium watch. “Hajime…” he smiled widely, taking the timekeeper out of its box and looking at it more closely. 

“There’s an engraving on the back,” Iwaizumi said softly.

Oikawa turned the watch around. He laughed. 

_Here’s hoping, Space Nerd. –Hajime_

“You dork,” Oikawa shook his head, leaning up to kiss Iwaizumi happily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss. He pulled back, taking Oikawa’s hand and pointing at the watch. “There’s one more thing.”

“Seriously?” Oikawa’s incredulous reply made him laugh.

“Yeah, seriously,” he said, reaching for the night stand to grab his own watch. “See, here,” he pointed at the small button on the side of the watch. “You know how you wind a watch from here?”

Oikawa nodded, raising an eyebrow. 

“Put it on,” Iwaizumi ushered, putting his own watch on.

Oikawa, curious as hell, put the watch on. It looked good on his wrist. He proudly modelled his wrist to Iwaizumi, who grinned.

“Okay. Push the button,” he said, nodding.

Oikawa pushed the button, and waited for… he wasn’t sure what he was waiting. 

Then Iwaizumi’s watch began vibrating and beeping. Oikawa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Holy crap!”

Iwaizumi nodded enthusiastically. “Push it again,” he encouraged.

Oikawa did as he was asked. The beeping and vibrating stopped. 

Iwaizumi pushed the button on his watch. Oikawa’s began to vibrate and beep. 

Shutting the alert off, Iwaizumi shrugged with a smile. “They’re connected. The range is something like 10 kilometres. There’s also a tracker in this, so if we’re separated and in trouble…” he trailed off.

Oikawa stared at his watch for a beat before tackling Iwaizumi to the bed, kissing him enthusiastically.

 

*

 

Unlike Oikawa, Iwaizumi did not have the night off. After eventually showering, he left Oikawa’s fake apartment and headed back to his to get a change of clothes before he’d go back to the club to check some things out during daytime. 

As he reached his place (a decent one-bedroom apartment fairly close to the club), he remembered he was supposed to call Saeko, which he did.

After a few rings, she picked up. _“It’s way too early for whatever it is.”_

Iwaizumi laughed. “I take it you’re sleeping in today?”

_“I was going to, but some inconsiderate asshole decided to call me. So, what’s up? Finally hooked up with the bartender?”_

“Why is that the first thing you’re assuming?” Iwaizumi asked, putting his coffee maker on and sat down to wait for it to finish percolating. He’d made some coffee at Oikawa’s, but had decided to leave it all to his lover. 

_“Because if you’re not already fucking him, you definitely should be. That guy looks at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you sure as hell share the feeling.”_

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile. Saeko was perceptive. “Well, for your information, I just got back home.”

He listened to silence for a moment. Then he had to hold the phone away from his ear. Even if his hearing wasn’t what it used to be, Saeko’s sudden shriek still made him flinch. _“I knew it! Oh my god! You lucky, gorgeous bastard, tell me everything!”_

“Not really much to tell,” Iwaizumi grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured some fresh coffee for himself. "We had a few drinks, and…” he trailed off, taking a sip of the dark liquid.

_“And?”_

“We played Monopoly, what do you think?” Iwaizumi snickered. He was, surprisingly, thoroughly enjoying this. He hadn’t exactly had a chance to have a chat like this with anyone. Sure, he talked to his friends about some stuff, but this was different. He hadn’t had a friend to just ‘gossip’ with since university. 

_“Yes!”_ Saeko cheered, obviously more awake than she had been a few minutes ago. _“So, how was it? I’m assuming you haven’t been hooking up left and right since you met, feel free to correct me.”_

Iwaizumi nearly spat out his coffee. He was pretty sure Saeko only knew he worked with her little brother, and even that was because he’d told her so. As far as she knew, Oikawa was the newest bartender. “Don’t have to correct you,” he replied before she’d have a chance to draw conclusions.

_“Damn. Well, at least you’re hitting that now. Now come on, tell me all the dirt!”_

Half an hour later, Iwaizumi hung up. He had a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t help it, really. It was just so goddamn nice to just talk shit about nothing with someone for a change. “Ah, shit,” he glanced at the clock, seeing that he had to get going in less than an hour if he wanted to get any work done. 

 

*

 

When he arrived at the club, Iwaizumi noticed that there were two cars on the parking lot behind the club. The first one he recognised, as it belonged to the owner. He took a quick photo of the second car and sent it to Oikawa, asking him to run a check on it.

After he entered the club, he made his way backstage. One of the other dancers, Carmen, had promised him a few days ago to drop off some information she’d found out to his locker. Before her shift had ended last night, she’d said that the information he’d been after would be in his locker today. 

With a quick check that no one was in the dressing room, he opened his locker and immediately spotted the envelope that hadn’t been there yesterday. He picked it up and shoved it into his laundry bag, throwing a couple of shirts on top of it.

He closed his locker, throwing the bag over his shoulder and headed out. Just as he was walking through the main floor, the owner’s office door opened and the man stepped out.

“Oh, Iwaizumi?” he blinked before letting the surprise evaporate from his face and settle into a pleased look. “I didn’t realize you were here.” He began descending the stairs, watching Iwaizumi.

“Hey, boss,” Iwaizumi greeted, lifting the bag slightly. “I was just picking up a couple of shirts to wash before my shift.”

The owner of the club, Joe Martin, was a man in his late forties. He was in a reasonably good shape for a man who’d made his money through several not-so-legal channels. His jet-black hair had some silver strands on his temples, giving him a refined look. He always wore a tailored three-piece suit and Oxfords.

He had an air of pleasantness around him, enhanced by polite manners and efficient way of running a business. As a good judge of character and not one to be fooled by polite words, Iwaizumi had him pegged as a ruthless bastard with no redeeming qualities.

Martin walked over to him, setting his large hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder companionably. “You’ve been here for, what, a month? How are you fitting in?” he asked with a friendly smile. 

Iwaizumi smiled back. “Good, thanks. This is definitely one of the nicer places I’ve seen,” he replied.

Martin laughed at his response, patting his shoulder before letting go. “Good to hear! We try to keep it classy around here. Actually, while you’re here, would you mind doing me a little favour?” 

Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. “What kind of favour?” 

Martin’s smile widened. “You’re smart to ask before saying yes or no. I respect that,” he nodded, putting his arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, discreetly moving him towards the staircase leading to his office. “See, I have a business partner in my office, and he’s being… well, let’s just say difficult,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “I was hoping you would help me persuade him.”

Iwaizumi didn’t like where this was going. At all. “What exactly are you asking me to do, here?” He phrased his question carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.

Martin pondered over his question for a moment before answering. “I think a simple blowjob would suffice. Normally I’d ask one of the girls, but my associate there isn’t interested in women. God knows why,” Martin laughed at his joke.

Iwaizumi did his best to keep from punching the man’s lights out, barely succeeding. “And what makes you think I’m not into women?”

Martin removed his arm from Iwaizumi’s shoulders and stepped in front of him, tilting his head condescendingly. “Don’t kid yourself. I have cameras all over the place, do you think I haven’t seen you and the bartender making out like a pair of horny teenagers?”

Well. Shit. 

Iwaizumi sighed. “Well, you got me there,” he nodded, already feeling horrible for what he was about to say. “Alright.”

Martin’s smile was wide and full of teeth. “Excellent,” he pointed towards his office. “He’s right in there.”

Iwaizumi nodded, dropping his bag to a nearby chair on his way to the stairs. 

He was halfway up when Martin called his name again. He turned to look at the man with an arched eyebrow.

Martin smiled up at him. “I’m generally not fond of staff members getting involved with each other, but I’m willing to overlook your little fling this one time.” He turned on his heels and headed for the bar.

Iwaizumi looked after him in anger, before taking a deep breath and heading into the office. 

He didn’t look at the man sitting on the couch when he entered the office. “I heard you’re having a slight disagreement with Mr Martin,” he said, closing the door and turning around. He looked up at the man with a smirk. “Maybe I can persuade you to see things differently?”

The man gave him an obvious, slow, and leering gaze before beckoning him closer. “You can certainly try, hot stuff.”

Iwaizumi, feeling sick to his stomach, smiled coyly and walked over.

 

*

 

Fifteen minutes later, Iwaizumi stepped out of the office. He calmly grabbed his laundry bag and made his way over to the bar, where Martin sat waiting for him. 

“I think you’ll find him in a more agreeable mood now, boss,” he stated with a lopsided smile. 

Martin nodded, clearly pleased. “Thank you, Iwaizumi. I’ll be sure to remember this next week when I hand out pay checks,” he patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder, heading back up to his office. 

Iwaizumi walked out of the club. The sudden, bright sunlight made him squint when he stepped outside. Once his vision cleared, he briskly walked around the corner to the alley where the trash bins were, and promptly threw up behind the first dumpster.

Once he recovered from the sudden bout of nausea, he wiped his mouth and straightened up. With clenched fists, he walked away, heading back to his apartment. He needed a shower.

The nearer he got to his place, the more awful he felt. He wasn’t new to honeypot-schemes during jobs, hell, he’d successfully executed several of such missions in the past, but this was far from that. Honeypots were well-thought out, carefully planned schemes. This? This was bullshit. 

Iwaizumi shuddered. Despite throwing up, he could still taste cum beneath the bile. He’d have to brush his teeth several times before he could even think about kissing Oikawa again. 

Oikawa. He was going to have to tell him about this, wasn’t he? 

He kept his calm until he closed his door behind himself. The minute the door was locked he threw the bag down and kicked it across the room. “Fuck!” he shouted, punching the wall furiously and throwing the coffee cup he’d used that morning to the opposite wall.

“So, I take it you’re not happy about something?”

He whirled around and saw Kuroo looking at him from over the back of the couch. The taller man looked relaxed, but Iwaizumi saw his shoulders tensing up in alarm when he met his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Kuroo remained where he was, folding his hands in front of him on the backrest. “You told me to wait for you here so we could check out the info? Did you not get it?” he asked, carefully keeping his pose as nonthreatening as possible. 

Iwaizumi stared at him for a moment before pointing at the bag. “There’s an envelope under the shirts. I need a fucking shower,” he evaded Kuroo’s gaze, walking past him and slamming the bathroom door after himself. 

Kuroo stared after him for a moment before grabbing the bag and digging out the envelope. He ripped it open and pulled out the pictures within. His eyes widened when he realized what he was seeing.

“Shit.”

He was about to call Iwaizumi to come and see this, but refrained when he heard the distinct sound of vomiting. “The fuck…?” he whispered instead. 

When Iwaizumi re-emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Kuroo was waiting for him with a large cup of coffee and donuts. “You okay there, buddy?” 

Iwaizumi sighed, running his fingers through his wet hair. “What’s the intel?” he evaded, sitting down on the couch and grabbing his cup gratefully. 

Kuroo gave him the pictures. “See for yourself,” he said, pointing at the first one. 

In the picture, a blonde woman in a skimpy dress was being carried into a van, while Martin stood in the background watching. She was obviously unconscious. Two other pictures told a similar story, another woman and a man being moved into the same van. The fourth picture depicted Martin accepting a thick-looking envelope from someone the camera hadn’t caught. 

“So he’s basically selling these people to someone. We need to run the plate, see if we can get an ID on any of these guys,” Iwaizumi commented, looking through the pictures again in hopes of seeing something he might’ve missed the first time. 

“I already updated HQ, they’ll get back to us if they find anything,” Kuroo replied, munching on a donut. 

Iwaizumi nodded, taking a long sip of coffee. “What do you think?” He hazarded a glance at his friend. 

Kuroo shrugged. “Could be he’s selling them to get Hostel-ed, or as sex slaves,” he shoved the rest of the pastry into his mouth. “We could use some more evidence. Not that this isn’t damning enough.”

“We need a way into his office,” Iwaizumi realized, setting the cup on the table. “And I think I’ve got an idea on how to accomplish that.”

“Oh really?” Kuroo arched an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he leaned back, looking at Iwaizumi curiously. 

Iwaizumi reached for a donut, hoping his stomach could take it. “Martin’s using dancers as a way to coerce his ‘business partners’ into whatever he wants from them.” He evaded Kuroo’s questioning glance.

“Seriously? How do you know? Did you see something?” Kuroo leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He was getting a bad feeling about this conversation.

“In a way.”

Kuroo groaned. “Could you be a bit more specific?” He rubbed his eyes. 

“He asked me to blow a guy in his office.”

What.

**What.**

Kuroo’s eyes widened as he looked at Iwaizumi, who was still evading eye contact. “What?! When?”

“When I was at the club, picking those up,” Iwaizumi pointed at the photos. 

“Jesus,” Kuroo leaned back, putting his hands on his head. “Did you?” he asked directly. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Iwaizumi nodded, burying his face into his hands before dropping them into his lap. “I had to. He knows about me and Tooru,” he shook his head.

Kuroo bit his lip. “Are you going to tell him?”

“At some point,” Iwaizumi admitted. “But for now, I have to stay away from him. I don’t want Martin to hold this against him and make him…” Iwaizumi swallowed the rest of the sentence.

“Fuck,” Kuroo sighed. “I get where you’re coming from, but he’s not going to be happy about it.”

Iwaizumi leaned back with a groan and covered his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Iwaizumi clapped his hands together. “Alright. I’ve got a plan. We just need to wait until Martin’s in the house, but entertaining guests somewhere else than his office.”

 

*

 

Iwaizumi avoided Oikawa as much as he could over the next few days. Instead of flirting with Oikawa, Iwaizumi spent his time talking to the other dancers at the club, establishing just how many were doing ‘favours’ to Martin.

Since Oikawa's stakeout had been unsuccessful ("I mean seriously, Iwa-chan, I can't believe I had to sit in that stupid car all night and neither of you even thought to bring me food? You guys are so inconsiderate!"), the answer came when Iwaizumi asked Saeko’s help in the process of getting girls to talk. Once she’d convinced the girls that Iwaizumi was there to find out what happened to the missing dancers, two girls came forward. Carmen, the girl who had given him the pictures, and a barely 20-years old Amber. 

“And you two haven’t spoken to anyone else about this?” he asked, speaking with the two in the club’s back room Thursday evening, a week after he’d gotten the photos from Carmen.

Both girls shook their heads. “If we told anyone, I bet we’d go missing,” Carmen said, glancing around nervously. 

Iwaizumi nodded. “Thank you for telling me,” he smiled reassuringly to them. 

Amber left quickly, as it was her turn to make a stage appearance. Carmen stayed behind for a few minutes. 

“Are you really going to help the cops put Joe away?” she asked.

“I’ll do my best,” Iwaizumi assured her. 

Carmen nodded with a smile before heading off for her floor duty shift.

 

*

 

Saturday evening came. Iwaizumi was on floor shift, which meant that he was entertaining patrons with lap dances and serving drinks instead of dancing on stage. What made the floor duty interesting (degrading, if Iwaizumi was asked), was that the servers wore a maid or butler uniform. Or, what was left of one. 

Iwaizumi was currently wearing a pair of tight, black pants, paired with a bowtie around his neck and cuffs on his wrists. Iwaizumi mentally categorized the skimpy outfit as “ridiculous”, "nonfunctional", and "degrading", Oikawa as “sexy.” 

It was a little after one am when Iwaizumi strolled to the bar to get another order filled that Oikawa struck. “So,” he started casually, mixing together an Old Fashioned and a Dirty Martini, “why haven’t I seen or heard of you outside of work since last week?”

Iwaizumi groaned. “Can we not talk about this now?”

Oikawa shrugged. “If I wait until you’re off-duty, you’ll run off. So that’s a no,” he glared at Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi glared back. “Look—“ he was about to say something, when a hand dropped heavily on his shoulder.

Oikawa’s eyes widened marginally, prompting Iwaizumi to look over his shoulder. It was Martin. 

Iwaizumi quickly masked his surprise with a polite smile. “Hey, boss! Didn’t know you were in tonight,” he greeted casually.

Martin set his arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, signalling Oikawa to pour them drinks. “I was just in for a short meeting, Iwaizumi. How’s tonight looking, Oikawa?” he asked, looking at Oikawa jovially. 

Oikawa poured them shots of whiskey with a kind smile. “We’re looking good, boss. Definitely in the top margin,” he replied with a grin. 

Martin slid one of the two shots in front of Iwaizumi. “Great! Keep up the good work!” He raised his glass in a toast to Oikawa.

Iwaizumi mimicked Martin’s actions, raising the shot and downing it when the older man did. 

Once they’d had their shots, Martin ignored Oikawa and turned to Iwaizumi. “I have another favour to ask you,” he smiled.

Had Oikawa not known Iwaizumi, he would’ve thought the man was genuinely puzzled. Since he did know him, he could clearly see that Iwaizumi was tense and not particularly happy about the situation.

“Is that so?” Iwaizumi asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Martin nodded, pointing towards the Champagne Room in the back. “I’m in the middle of a negotiation in there, and the other party is being obtuse. Do you think you could spare a few minutes to join us?”

 _‘Come and suck a dick for my monetary benefit, is what that means’,_ Iwaizumi’s brain helpfully translated. He was about to make up an excuse, say something along the lines of having too many tables to take care of, when Martin glanced at Oikawa meaningfully.

“Of course, if you’re busy, I could ask if Oikawa here would lend me a helpful hand.”

Iwaizumi shook his head before Oikawa had a chance to contribute to the conversation. “No, I’m free. I’ll just drop these drinks off and be right with you, is that okay?” 

Martin’s grin grew. Iwaizumi did not like that, not one bit. “Fantastic! You don’t need to change, what you’re wearing now will be fine,” he patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder before stepping away. After a few steps towards the Champagne Room, he turned on his heels and clapped his hands. “Oh, and do bring a bottle of top-shelf Scotch with you! And three glasses!”

Iwaizumi did a mock salute, and Martin walked off. 

The tension between Iwaizumi and Oikawa was palpable. 

“Right,” Iwaizumi picked up the drinks Oikawa had already made. “Plan A is a Go. Kuroo’ll help you,” he said quickly, turning to see where the makeshift-bouncer was and beckoning him over. “I can promise you fifteen minutes. Copy his hard drive, take pictures of all paperwork you can find, the works. I think Akaashi’s on standby tonight, so call him if you need anything.”

“What the—Iwa-chan!” Oikawa hissed as Iwaizumi left just as Kuroo walked over, looking puzzled. 

“What’d he say?” Kuroo asked, watching Iwaizumi smile and flirt with the patrons he was currently serving drinks to. 

“We’re going ahead with plan A now,” Oikawa replied, looking at Iwaizumi in slight confusion. 

Kuroo realized immediately what was going on. “Alright. You go ahead, I’ll get Akaashi on the line and have him loop the footage,” he said, delegating all of Oikawa’s current drink orders to the temp bar hand. 

He then herded Oikawa away from the bar and towards the stairs. “Up you go!”

Iwaizumi returned to the bar, grabbing an unopened bottle of the best Scotch he could and three glasses before heading to the Champagne Room. He glanced at Kuroo by the door.

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa quickly before giving Iwaizumi a quick thumbs-up. Iwaizumi nodded, took a breath, and knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, y'all still with me so far? Thanks for reading, see you next time!


	3. In which frequent flyer miles are put to use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi finds himself in a sticky situation while Oikawa investigates. A new familiar face enters the playing field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there's a bit more of that dub-con from last time in this chapter. 
> 
> Some elements from 'Roman Holiday' (previous fic in this series) are brought up here, but it's not necessary to read that to understand what's going on. Not that I mind y'all reading that ;) (shameless self-promoting will end now, I swear.)

The club’s Champagne Rooms, three in total, could be accessed by first entering a hallway with a member of staff. The three separate rooms were spread evenly along the hallway, and all had the same layout: one door led directly to a large, cushioned booth surrounding a round table. On the wall, immediately left from the door, was an embedded stereo system.

Iwaizumi knocked on the door before opening it and stepping in smoothly. “Evening, gentlemen,” he greeted as he made sure the door was closed before he turned around with a smile. “I understood that you’re in need of some enter…tainment,” he looked up, immediately recognising the man sitting in the booth next to Martin.

Blond hair, piercings, that insufferable, knowing smirk. _Unmistakeable._

“I have to give it to you, Joe, you know how to pick ‘em!” the man smirked around his cigarette, looking at Iwaizumi head-to-toe. “He’s as gorgeous as you said!”

Iwaizumi masked his surprise with a quick bashful smile. “So my reputation precedes me,” he raised an eyebrow, hoping Martin hadn’t spotted the minor heart attack he’d just had. 

Apparently he hadn’t, because Martin responded with a delighted clap of his hands. “I’ve been telling Giancarlo here all about your skills as a dancer, Iwaizumi!”

Iwaizumi set the bottle and the glasses on the table. “Is that so? Would you like a demonstration, sir?” he asked, looking directly at Giancarlo with a coy smile. 

Giancarlo’s eyes widened marginally, and Iwaizumi was pretty sure he caught a hint of surprise in the man’s eyes before he covered it up with a shit-eating grin. “Well, since you’re offering…” he trailed off, leaning back and spreading his arms invitingly. 

Iwaizumi nodded, turning on his heels and walking over to the stereo system, making sure his hips swayed as he walked. “Any requests?”

Giancarlo ‘hmm’-ed, thinking about it. “Do you by any chance have anything Italian?”

“Oh, you’re Italian? I thought I heard an accent there,” Iwaizumi swayed to the beat of the background music that flowed through the system as he looked for something Italian. 

“All the way from Sicily, wasn’t it?” Martin asked, clearly pleased by how politely Iwaizumi interacted with his business partner. 

“ _Sí_ ,” Giancarlo replied with a smile. 

Iwaizumi stared at the playlist. ‘This is so fucking ironic’, he thought as he stared at the title of the only song in Italian in the entire playlist. _L’importante è finire._ The important thing is to finish. 

He hit play, and the soft notes began playing through the speakers. He turned around, watching the men with a smile. 

Giancarlo’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, _caro_ , this is perfect!” He laughed, clapping his hands. 

Iwaizumi wanted to strangle him. Instead, he came back towards the table and grabbed the bottle of Scotch. He opened it and poured three shots, handing the men glasses and taking one for himself. Once everyone had a glass in hand, he raised his for a toast. “ _Salute_ , gentlemen!”

Martin and Giancarlo happily toasted with him, and all three threw back their shots. Iwaizumi refilled the other two’s glasses before setting the bottle back to the table and stepped between Giancarlo’s legs, slowly rolling his body to the slow beat. 

Giancarlo stared at him hungrily and threw back his drink again, putting a hand on Iwaizumi’s chest and feeling his muscles appreciatively. Iwaizumi grabbed the wandering hand, moving it lower and along his abs with each roll of his hips. When Giancarlo’s hand trailed a little too close to the waistline of Iwaizumi’s pants for the man’s comfort, he surprised the Italian by moving the hand to his hip with a teasing shake of his head.

“Joe, I believe we have a deal,” Giancarlo murmured.

With deft fingers, Iwaizumi plucked the empty glass from Giancarlo’s other hand and set it back on the table behind him, elaborately arching his back as he did so. He grabbed the now free hand and set it to the other side of his hips.

“I’m glad,” Martin grinned. “You won’t regret your decision.”

Giancarlo took the opportunity to give Iwaizumi’s ass a grope before returning his hands to his hips, grasping him and moving them along with the sensuous movements. “Fantastic. My boss will be pleased.”

Iwaizumi lifted his body and moved to sit in Giancarlo’s lap, grinding down against the man as the song changed into a faster-paced one. He needed a way to find out about their deal.

Giancarlo smirked at Martin. “You weren’t lying about him,” he kept one hand on Iwaizumi’s hip and trailed the other back up Iwaizumi’s chest, all the way up to his collarbone.

Martin nodded, watching them intensely. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this,” he laughed, throwing back his shot and pouring him and Giancarlo new ones. “A drink, Iwaizumi?” he offered, pausing the bottle on top of Iwaizumi’s glass before pouring him one anyway.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Iwaizumi replied, taking the offered two glasses with a sultry smile. He downed his shot easily, and with a wink to Giancarlo, emptied his glass into his mouth as well. He leaned in, kissing the Italian. Giancarlo opened his mouth obediently, and Iwaizumi let the Scotch stream from his mouth to Giancarlo’s, leaning back and wiping his mouth after with a smile. 

“Delicious,” he murmured, his hips resuming their momentarily stalled movement. 

Martin laughed at Giancarlo’s dumbfounded expression. “Full of surprises, isn’t he?” He patted Giancarlo’s shoulder and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I have some work to do before you notify Kiev of the changes.”

Iwaizumi was pretty sure fifteen minutes hadn’t passed yet. Oikawa would probably still be in the office. If he got caught…

He made his decision. He’d tell Oikawa when they weren’t trying to keep their covers intact. Begging for forgiveness is easier than asking for permission.

His hand shot out, grabbing Martin’s wrist and effectively stopped the man. When Martin looked at him in confusion, he nodded towards the obvious bulge in his pants with an arched eyebrow. “Would you like me to take care of that for you, boss?” He licked his lips quickly, knowing he’d won when Martin’s eyes tracked the movement carefully. 

“It wouldn’t do for you to walk around the floor with a hard-on like that,” he continued, letting go of Martin’s wrist in favour of hooking his finger on the man’s belt loop and giving it a small but insistent tug.

Martin looked at him curiously for a beat before smirking and sitting back down. “Why not,” he said, spreading his legs and leaning back comfortably. “Might as well know what I’m selling.”

 

*

 

Oikawa snuck into Martin’s office, his spare flash drive burning a hole into his pocket. He immediately headed for the laptop and went about copying all the files on the hard drive. Once he had the computer doing what he wanted, he began going through all the papers he saw on the desk.

“Come on, give me something, anything’s fine,” he muttered, opening desk drawers one by one in hopes of finding something. 

He found absolutely nothing. Crestfallen, he turned back to the computer to check on the copying process. He spotted an already opened window in the bottom of the screen. “Well, hello,” he said to himself as he clicked it open. 

It was all the security camera feeds from the club. He could see all the girls in the back, getting dressed, applying makeup and such, he saw the main floor, all the horny idiots scattered around the bar, the dancers on stage and giving lap dances.

What piqued his interest was the feed from the Champagne Rooms. The other two rooms were empty, but the third one housed three individuals. Oikawa clicked the feed to full screen size, watching Iwaizumi dance in some guy’s lap.

He frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “Is that…?” He recognised the man Iwaizumi was dancing for. “Fuck!” he cussed. 

As far as they knew, Giancarlo was supposed to be in Casablanca. What the hell was he doing here? This was definitely not good. If Giancarlo blew their covers, a lot more than professional pride was at stake here. 

He unplugged the flash drive once the download was complete, but didn’t take his eyes off the feed. His heart stung when he saw Iwaizumi kiss Giancarlo, even when he knew it was all for a show. 

His eyes widened when Martin made a move to leave. “Shit!” He wasn’t going to have enough time to—wait. He saw Iwaizumi grab Martin and said something to him to make him stay. 

Oikawa felt his heart leap into his throat when Martin sat down comfortably and spread his legs. He covered his mouth with his hand in shock when Iwaizumi slid off of Giancarlo’s lap and kneeled on the floor in front of Martin. He took the feed off full-screen mode and minimised the window again, leaving the office hastily. 

He missed how Giancarlo poured a drink and slipped something into the glass while Iwaizumi was otherwise occupied. 

Oikawa came down the stairs in a hurry, meeting Kuroo back at the bar and slipping the flash drive to the bouncer. “Giancarlo’s here,” he hissed, pouring himself a shot of vodka with a trembling hand and downing it quickly. 

Kuroo pocketed the drive, frowning. “Who’s that?”

“An informer. The guy who interrupted our vacation in Rome. He’s supposed to be in Casablanca, though,” Oikawa explained quickly, throwing an uncomfortable glance towards the Champagne Room. 

“Right,” Kuroo replied, shooting Akaashi a quick text about the new problem. “I’ve never met him, let’s hope he won’t know who I am. Did you find anything?”

Oikawa shrugged. “No paperwork, but I copied the hard drive. I also found out what Iwa-chan meant by the girls ‘servicing’ Martin’s friends,” he spat out a touch bitterly. 

Kuroo winced. “Um, dare I ask—“

“Did you know?!” Oikawa hissed, looking at the taller man angrily, “and don’t you dare lie to me.”

Kuroo looked conflicted. His unwillingness to answer told Oikawa all he needed to know. “How long has this been going on?” he asked, mixing a couple of cocktails when a girl in a maid costume hesitantly handed over an order slip. 

Kuroo shrugged helplessly. “Last Wednesday was the first time, but I know for sure there’s only been two other, um, favours before tonight. He said he’d tell you when we’re in less of a situation,” he said, smiling to the girl confidently as he tried to keep the topic of their conversation as vague as possible. 

Once the girl had gone her merry way, a cute little blush on her cheeks after a couple of grins and winks from Kuroo, the two resumed their conversation.

“I think I deserve to know when my partner is fucking other people!” Oikawa growled, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo. 

Kuroo was pretty sure he’d never seen the man that angry before. He raised his hands into a defensive pose. “Hey, I agree completely. In his defence, it’s not like he wants to… you know.” He sure as hell didn’t want to be in the room when Oikawa hashed this out with Iwaizumi.

Oikawa was fuming. “At least now I know why he’s been avoiding me!”

Kuroo sighed. He shouldn’t get involved. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his problem. He didn’t like getting involved. He hated drama.

But he kind of had to stand up for his friend.

“Look,” he pointed a finger towards the Champagne Room. “He’s been avoiding you, because Martin knows about you two, and he doesn’t exactly approve! You wanna know why he’s doing that? So you don’t have to.” Kuroo looked around to make sure no one had overheard them and set his hands back on the bar. “Be mad at him all you want about not telling you, but don’t think for one second he wouldn’t do anything for you.”

He leaned back, looking towards the Champagne Room. “You better start acting like the professional you are, because Martin’s coming back,” he fixed a wide smile on his face, greeting the man with a wave. 

“Hey boss!”

“Kuroo, Oikawa,” Martin greeted them with a satisfied smile. His eyes lingered on Oikawa, much to the man’s annoyance. “Are we still making a profit?”

Oikawa nodded. “Definitely, boss!” He smiled, printing out a report from the till and handing it over for a quick inspection. 

Martin hummed as he looked over the figures with approval. “Well done, boys, I never doubted you for a second,” he handed the receipt back with a smile. “Kuroo, I have a delivery leaving tonight from the back exit, would you make sure the van can back up easily?”

Kuroo nodded. “Sure. The alley should be clear, but I’ll check it out. When’s the delivery?” he asked, glancing at his watch. 

“In about half an hour or so,” Martin patted his shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll be in my office for a while, my guest is still in the Champagne Room, so let me know if he’s leaving before I’m back.”

“Will do,” Oikawa said with a smile. His smile melted away the moment Martin turned his back on them and disappeared up the stairs.

They glanced at each other. “Think it’s one of the sketchy-kind?” Kuroo asked, changing the subject.

Oikawa nodded. “Probably is. We put up cameras in the alley, didn’t we?”

“I’ll text Akaashi to keep an eye out,” Kuroo took his phone out as he headed towards the back door to check the alley anyway.

Oikawa glanced towards the room where he knew Iwaizumi was now alone with Giancarlo. There was a pang in his chest that he just couldn’t seem to get rid of. 

 

*

 

The minute Martin left, Iwaizumi practically leapt away from Giancarlo. He wiped at his mouth furiously, grabbing his glass from the table and taking a long swig.  
Giancarlo opened his mouth to say something, but remained quiet when Iwaizumi lifted a warning finger.

After having his fill of whiskey, Iwaizumi slammed the glass down and wiped the trickle of alcohol from his jaw. “What the hell are you doing here?!” he hissed angrily. 

Giancarlo shrugged, smirking. “Just wrapping up some loose ends,” he said vaguely, standing up and picking up the bottle. “Imagine my surprise, when my associate tells me about a dancer in his employment, who’s willing to ‘go the extra mile’, so to speak,” he stepped closer to Iwaizumi, holding the bottle out to him, “and it turns out to be you, _caro_.”

Iwaizumi glared at him, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another drink. He needed to get that god-forsaken taste out of his mouth. 

Giancarlo tilted his head. “Are you here on a job, or is this merely an extra-curricular?” he asked with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“None of your goddamn business,” Iwaizumi snapped, his hand clenching around the glass as he put the bottle down. “Tell me about Kiev. Now.”

Giancarlo nodded, spreading his arms magnanimously. “I didn’t see your darling Oikawa here, is he waiting at home?” he evaded.

Iwaizumi thanked his lucky stars that Giancarlo hadn’t spotted Oikawa yet. He had to get out of here to brief Kuroo and Oikawa about the man’s sudden appearance. “None of your business. Kiev,” he reminded impatiently.

There was something Iwaizumi didn’t recognise in Giancarlo’s smile. “Trouble in paradise?”

“None. Of. Your. Business,” Iwaizumi growled, stepping up to Giancarlo threateningly. Then he remembered something. “Wait. You came to Rome from Kiev,” he frowned, thinking back six months when they’d last encountered the Italian. 

“That I did,” Giancarlo admitted magnanimously. “I distinctly remember you punching me.” 

The puzzle pieces were beginning to form a picture in Iwaizumi’s mind. “What’s important about Kiev? Who’s important in Kiev?” he demanded.

Giancarlo sat back down and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s not important in Kiev?” he shrugged. “It’s a nice city.”

“There’s nothing but… Kravchuk,” Iwaizumi exclaimed as the last piece of the puzzle clicked. “He practically runs the trade from Odessa to Prague. That’s who you’re working for, isn’t it?” he looked at Giancarlo. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually figure it out so fast. I guess you’ve been doing your homework after all. Well, not that it matters,” the Italian commented.

“How so?” Iwaizumi clenched his teeth. Something wasn’t right.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Giancarlo looked up at Iwaizumi with a knowing smile. “Might wanna sit down, though, _caro_.”

A feeling of cold dread washed over Iwaizumi as he definitely felt something other than Scotch blurring his mind. He looked at the glass in his hand, and came to a sobering realization. “What the hell did you give me?”

“Just a little something to keep you nice and quiet during the ride,” Giancarlo said, glancing at his watch. 

Iwaizumi’s vision swam, and he dropped the glass. He stumbled a bit, grabbing the seat’s backrest for support. “Fuck you,” he huffed, looking towards the door. If he could just get out of the room and to the hallway…

He took a few stumbling steps towards the door, fumbling for his watch at the same time. His vision was getting blurrier by the second. This was not going to be a very successful effort. He felt the small button on the watch, pushing it while he still had the thought clearly on his mind. After pushing it to the bottom, he reached for the door.

Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Giancarlo’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back. He hadn’t even heard the man move.

“No, no, you just stay right here,” Giancarlo muttered to his ear, pulling him away from the door and back to the booth. 

Iwaizumi’s limbs didn’t seem to want to co-operate with him, as his attempts at resistance were futile. He was shoved on his back on the cushioned seat. Giancarlo straddled him, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly against the seat above his head. “I hope you understand this is just business, _caro_. This wasn’t my idea. I’m just following orders,” he said apologetically, attempting to kiss Iwaizumi gently, huffing in disappointment when the drugged man turned his head away.

“Fine, have it your way,” he huffed, sitting up and backhanding Iwaizumi on the cheek. “Martin knows, by the way. One of your little dancer-friends ratted you out. Little Carmen likes the extra money,” he smiled, caressing the same cheek he’d just slapped. 

Iwaizumi barely felt the sting. Giancarlo sighed, looking at the nearly naked body squirming uselessly beneath him. “If I were less of a man, I would have you right now, before I take you to your next stop,” he trailed a hand over Iwaizumi’s chest and stomach. “But while I am many things, a rapist is not one of them.”

He moved off of Iwaizumi, knowing that he wasn’t able to walk anymore. He stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. “Go to sleep. You don’t need to be awake for the next part.”

 

*

 

Oikawa was furiously polishing a glass, ignoring Kuroo’s attempts at making conversation when his watch began beeping and vibrating. He dropped the glass in surprise, and it shattered into tiny pieces upon impact.

Kuroo flinched. “What the—what is that?”

“It’s my watch,” Oikawa stared at it for a moment in confusion. “Iwa-chan gave it to me last week. Mine and his are linked, and we agreed that if one of us…” 

His blood ran cold.

Kuroo must’ve picked up something from his expression, because he hopped off his seat and headed towards the Champagne Room, pulling his brass knuckles on. “Pull the fire alarm, and make sure Martin doesn’t go anywhere!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so if there's anyone who doesn't remember Giancarlo or doesn't know who he is, he's the Terushima-inspired OC from 'Roman Holiday'. It's not necessary to have read that to get that he's an "old friend" of sorts, but it might help.
> 
> Thanks for reading, feel free to yell at me!


	4. In which there's impolite and then there's downright rude behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions begin to unravel. Kuroo and Oikawa get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get down to business, I'd just like to thank everyone for the huge bunch of kudos y'all have left and a HUGE fuckton of thank yous for all the wonderful comments! Seriously, you guys make me giddy and chick-flick feels-y, and I'm absolutely floored by all the feels I read from them <3
> 
> Let's get this show on the road, then!

Giancarlo was tapping away at his cell phone when the door flew open after one surprisingly strong kick. His eyes widened when the bouncer he’d spotted earlier entered the room. “Was that truly necessary?” he asked, stepping in front of Iwaizumi to keep him mostly out of sight. 

“Probably not, I just like kicking doors in,” Kuroo shrugged. “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

Giancarlo narrowed his eyes. “Not available at the moment.” 

Kuroo clicked his tongue, stepping closer cautiously and spotting Iwaizumi lying on the seat. “See, I think that might not be 100 % true,” he said, clenching his fists demonstratively. “Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

Giancarlo didn’t get a chance to reply when a fist came flying towards his face. He evaded quickly and hopped behind the table to keep some distance between them. “You and I seem to have a very different definition of the word ‘chat’,” he grumbled, throwing a glass at Kuroo.

Kuroo slapped the glass away, watching Giancarlo’s every move. The fire alarm began blaring, startling the Italian man into taking his eyes off of the spy.

Kuroo struck in a flash. He kicked the table to the side and tackled Giancarlo. He ignored the flailing movement of the man’s arms and pinned him to the floor. He shoved his knee to the base of Giancarlo’s spine and yanked his arms back. He smiled sadistically at the sudden short scream caused by a dislocated shoulder. 

“Behave, and I won’t do bad stuff to your other arm,” he hissed, pulling the so far uninjured arm behind Giancarlo’s back in the interest of keeping the man subdued. 

Giancarlo spat out something Kuroo didn’t understand. He absently hazarded a guess that it was probably something in Italian, but seeing as he only spoke English and Japanese, he didn’t really care all that much.

Now that he had the more immediate threat under control, he looked at Iwaizumi. The man’s cheek was tinted pink, but he looked otherwise uninjured. Excluding the obvious less-than conscious state, of course. “So, what’d you do? Drug him?” Kuroo asked conversationally, rolling his knuckles against the injured shoulder, eliciting a few more curses. 

“Can we talk about this like professionals?!” Giancarlo groaned in pain. 

“I don’t think so,” Kuroo took his hand off of Giancarlo’s shoulder, grabbing his hair and hitting his face against the floor. “If you hadn’t gone and doped my friend, you might’ve gotten out of this with a broken nose, or maybe even a slap on the wrist.”

He leaned down, pressing Giancarlo’s face against the floor. “Tell me exactly what you did to him, and I might consider letting you walk out of here on your own two legs.”

Giancarlo considered his situation for a moment before nodding as much as he could manage. 

Kuroo let go of his head, and he let out a short breath of relief. “I slipped GHB into his glass.”

“What were you going to do?”

Before Giancarlo could reply, Oikawa ran in. “The club’s empty, Martin's tied up in his office. Me and Saeko barred the door. She’s watching the door now—Iwa-chan?”

Kuroo glanced at him from over his shoulder. “He’s doped. How long has he been out?” he turned back to Giancarlo, encouraging him to answer with a friendly shove to his shoulder.

“Does it look like I paid attention?” Giancarlo hissed. 

Oikawa took two steps to reach Iwaizumi. He kneeled down next to him and put two fingers on the pulse point in his neck. After a moment of silence, he leaned over and put his ear over Iwaizumi’s mouth. “His pulse is slow, but he’s breathing,” Oikawa said as he stood up and manoeuvred Iwaizumi into the recovery position. “What did he give him?”

“GHB,” Kuroo replied, glancing at the door before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few zip ties to tie Giancarlo with. “Now, tell me what you were going to do with him,” he said to the man making small pained noises. 

“For the record, it wasn’t my idea,” Giancarlo replied, grunting when Kuroo manhandled him to sit against the booth. “Transport for him is on its way here. Martin wanted him doped and ready by the time it got here. I didn’t even know it was him Martin was talking about until he walked in,” he defended himself.

Kuroo was just about all out of fucks to give, so he settled for punching the man.

Blood flowed from Giancarlo’s nose. “You broke my nose!” he yelled, coughing in discomfort.

“Consider it an improvement of your face,” Kuroo said breezily, poking him in the chest. “Where were you planning to take him?”

Oikawa listened to Kuroo’s interrogation half-heartedly. He sat next to Iwaizumi, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder mostly for his own comfort. 

“I’m just the middleman,” Giancarlo evaded. “The next drop-off point was going to be behind a Denny’s at the eastern side of town.”

“I always knew some shady shit was going on there,” Kuroo muttered. 

“Could you go check on Saeko and Martin?” Oikawa asked suddenly, looking at Kuroo meaningfully. 

Kuroo got the hint. “Sure,” he stood up and brushed off his pants, patting his friend’s shoulder and leaving the room. 

He jogged across the main floor and headed for the cabinet that housed the fire detection system. He disabled the alarm, bringing an end to the shrill noise before striding to the staircase that led up to Martin’s office. Saeko was sitting on the top step, and she stood up when she saw him coming. “He’s still inside.”

“Good, I wanna have a word with him,” Kuroo cracked his knuckles as he came up the stairs.

Saeko helped him move the table that she and Oikawa had used to block the door. Once the table was gone, Kuroo looked at her seriously for a moment while keeping his hand on the doorknob. “You should go. Some really rude shit’s about to happen.”

She stared right back, not moving an inch. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to know what’s going on, why my friends have gone missing,” she said. 

Kuroo held her gaze for a beat before flashing her a toothy smirk. “Honey, I could kiss you,” he winked.

Saeko rolled her eyes. “You’re missing some vital parts to make that interesting for me, Romeo. Are we gonna sit here and have a girl-talk or are you going to beat his ass?”

Kuroo put a hand over his chest theatrically and expertly faked a swoon before opening the door and walking in.

Martin was duct-taped to his chair, and a piece of tape was also over his mouth. He frowned and began making noises when the two walked in.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Kuroo sang, strolling over to him and stopping right in front of him. “And how are you?”

Martin glared at him and mumbled something behind his gag. Saeko, keeping her eyes on them, walked over to the couch and sat down.

Kuroo sighed. “Oh, that’s right, you’re having trouble phrasing your thoughts right now,” he shrugged. “Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to take the tape off and ask you some questions. You’re going to answer my questions, or I will hurt you. Understood?”

 

*

 

Giancarlo looked at Oikawa warily. Before he had a chance to ask why the sudden need for a private chat, Oikawa spoke up.

“Do you remember when you crashed our holiday six months ago?” he asked, watching Iwaizumi breathe, slowly but surely.

“Yes?” Giancarlo raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?” He was pretty sure he’d given Iwaizumi enough drugs to make him forget at least the last hour, but he couldn’t have Oikawa figure out who he worked for. 

“I should’ve let him kill you then and there,” Oikawa growled. “I knew you’d pull some shit. I fucking knew it.”

“Don’t blame yourself, it’s just my nature,” Giancarlo quipped.

The punch in the face was a bit of a surprise. He recovered quick enough, though. “Hell of a punch,” he noted. He could just feel a black eye forming. 

“Iwa-chan taught me,” Oikawa murmured. “One more word out of you and I’ll hit you so hard you’ll be collecting your teeth from another zip code.”

Giancarlo kept his mouth shut. If he played his cards right, he probably could get out of this alive.

 

*

 

“So, I know Giancarlo’s your middleman, but who’s your buyer?” Kuroo asked, wiping some blood off his brass knuckles. He’d have to clean them thoroughly after this.

Martin spat blood and a tooth to the floor before looking up at him. “I can’t tell you, they’ll kill me!”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and drove his fist into Martin’s ribs. The man let out a short scream, which Kuroo lengthened by doing it again. “Bitch, I’m gonna kill you if you don’t tell me,” he remarked. 

Martin looked about as tough as a six-year-old with monsters in the closet. “Let me make a deal! You get me into witness protection, I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Kuroo laughed. “I love it when people do that,” he snickered, “try to make deals and shit. Alright, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make sure they’ll treat you nicely. Scout’s honour.”

He even lifted his fingers in the traditional salute. “Offer expires in three, two, one…”

“Ukrainians!” Martin screamed suddenly. “That’s who I’m selling to!”

Kuroo clapped slowly. “Wow. Can you be a bit more specific? I mean, it’s a country with a population of around 44,5 million people, so if you could narrow that down, that’d be awesome,” he deadpanned.

Martin nodded enthusiastically. “They’re based in Kiev,” he said quickly, “That’s all I know, I swear. Giancarlo never named his boss, and I never asked.”

Kuroo smiled and patted Martin’s cheek. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he drawled as he stood up.

“Right, thanks for that, I’ve got shit to do so you’re gonna stay here until we get a team to take you away.” He motioned for Saeko to stand up as well. 

“Oh, by the way,” he said as he grabbed the roll of tape from the table, “that deal you think you made? I was bluffing. I was never a boyscout.”

“What?!” Martin screeched. “But, you said—“

“I said they’ll treat you nicely. I meant when our team comes to pick you up from here. I’m pretty sure they won’t bruise you. Like, 60% sure.”

“But… I can testify!” Martin tried desperately. 

Kuroo shook his head. “Yeah, we’re actually not a government agency, so we’re not obliged to hand you over to other authorities,” he explained. “See, people like you don’t deserve a ‘fair’ trial. People like you always weasel your way of being punished. We’ll just send you to a nice, foreign prison for the rest of your miserable life.”

He replaced the tape over Martin’s mouth, then walked to the door with Saeko. “I hear Panama’s nice this time of year,” he quipped before closing the door after them.

Saeko looked at him as they moved the table back in front of the door. There was little chance Martin was able to escape, but Kuroo wasn’t in the business of working sloppy. “So, is this what you guys do? Send people away?”

Kuroo gave her an evaluating glance before deciding she was trustworthy. He was a good judge of character like that. Plus she had the whole Tanaka’s sister –thing going for her. “Yeah. If they’re still alive by the end of everything, that is. They usually are,” he assured her.

“Is Ryuu really a pilot?” she asked. 

“Definitely,” Kuroo nodded. “I’m not supposed to tell you much because let me tell you, boss’ NDAs are, like, a mile long and really boring, but he works in a different department than we do. He’s not involved in this kind of work, if that helps.”

She smiled as they walked down the stairs together. “It kinda does.”

 

*

 

“I tied Martin up and asked him a few questions,” Kuroo said when he returned to the Champagne room, walking over to the flipped table and pulling it back up to sit on it. “Turns out he’s been selling dancers for sex slavery to this asshole’s employer with him as a middleman.”

Kuroo smiled cheerfully at Giancarlo, spotting the new black eye he was sporting with delight. “What are you doing in those circles, buddy? Don’t you know that’s bad for you?”

“What are we going to do about the transport that’s coming?” Oikawa asked. “Should we try and grab that guy as well?”

Kuroo shook his head with a smirk. “I have a plan.”

Oikawa looked sceptical. “Is it a good one?”

Kuroo frowned, kicking his shin petulantly. “It’s a plan, okay?”

 

*

 

Kuroo’s Master Plan included them taking out the person/persons arriving there, calling a team to pick Martin up to get him out of the way, and using Giancarlo as their GPS.  
Oikawa was not amused. “Why can’t we use this guy instead?” he whined as the taped up van’s driver after a brief but decisive scuffle. 

“Because I want to use this guy as a human shield if it comes down to that,” Kuroo explained, happily patting Giancarlo’s shoulder. He’d re-set the shoulder he’d dislocated, mainly out of convenience. “Call HQ, will you?”

Giancarlo glared at him while Oikawa went back inside to make the call. “You are not a very nice man, are you?”

“Glad to see you’re catching up, Sunshine,” Kuroo smirked, pointing at the van. “Hop on. We’re going for a ride.”

Oikawa didn’t have to wait long for Akaashi to pick up. _“What’s your status?”_

“Martin’s tied up, we need transport for him,” Oikawa began. “Me and Kuroo are going to intercept the trade.”

_“Affirmative. I’ll send the closest retrieval team, ETA twenty minutes. Who’s meeting them, Iwaizumi?”_

Oikawa’s heart skipped a beat. “Iwaizumi’s indisposed. Our contact will meet retrieval team.”

_“Do you need a med team? Is he injured?”_

He had to look up and take a deep breath to keep his eyes from tearing up before he answered. “He was administered a dose of GHB with alcohol. Med team would be the best, thanks. He’s unconscious, but his vitals seem stable.”

_“…Copy that. I’ll have a medic accompany the retrieval team.”_

“Is Daichi there?” he asked suddenly, ignoring the apologetic tone in Akaashi’s voice.

_“Yes. Standby.”_

After a moment, Daichi’s voice replaced Akaashi’s. _“Oikawa? What do you need?”_

“What’ll happen to Giancarlo?”

_“…He’s no longer to be considered an asset. He’ll be locked up.”_

“Permission to terminate him if necessary?”

Oikawa could practically feel the tension dripping through the line.

_“Permission denied. He has information valuable to this investigation. HQ out.”_

He hung up, staring at his phone for a moment before pocketing it. He looked up and headed towards the Champagne room.

Saeko was now sitting with Iwaizumi, petting his hair. She looked up when Oikawa came in, but didn’t even pause her soft petting. “Are you going now?” 

“Yeah,” Oikawa replied, crouching down next to Iwaizumi. He watched the man’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took, and touched his cheek. 

Saeko smiled. “You two are so cute together,” she commented.

Oikawa leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Iwaizumi’s forehead before standing up. “A team’s coming to take Martin away in about twenty minutes. A medic’s coming with them to check up on Iwa-chan. They’ll probably want to take you with them, as well. You don’t have to go, but it’s completely up to you,” he told her, smiling reassuringly.

Saeko waved him off. “We’ll be fine, just go already you dork!”

He went back to the alley, where Kuroo and Giancarlo were waiting. He glanced at Giancarlo and nodded to Kuroo discreetly. Kuroo gave a tiny nod back before he tapped the driver’s side door impatiently. “Come on, stop pining and get your ass in the van! We’ve got bad guys to fry!”

Oikawa flipped him off and climbed in. Kuroo snorted, starting the engine and gunning it. “Where’s this Axis of Evil Denny’s you mentioned?” he asked Giancarlo jovially. 

Giancarlo rolled his eyes. “Head east on Main Street. It’s a ten-minute drive, maybe fifteen.”

Kuroo nodded, heading into the direction as advised. “So, does human trafficking pay better than being an informant?” he glanced at the Italian for confirmation.

“Unsavoury work, but it pays,” Giancarlo shrugged, then wincing as his sore shoulder reminded him of its existence. 

“’Unsavoury’, huh? Can I ask you something?” Kuroo asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “You recognized Iwaizumi. Sure, Martin knew he was a spy, that’s why he wanted Iwaizumi gone. But why did you go along with it? I understand there’s some history between you two.”

Giancarlo looked pensive. Kuroo poked his nose, making it start trickling blood again. “I’m going to keep being unfriendly if you keep being such a dick,” he sang cheerfully. 

Giancarlo winced, squeezing his eyes shut before looking straight ahead. “It’s nothing personal. Strictly business.”

“Uh-huh,” Kuroo nodded. “And trying to kill him before was also just business, not some jilted lover -shit?”

Giancarlo decided nodding would be a sufficient response. 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing the people we’re going to see now would’ve killed him for being a spy without a second glance. Am I right or am I right?”

Another nod was all he got. He sighed, shaking his head. “Oh, dear. See, this is where it gets tricky,” he flicked his wrist. “That’s twice now that you’ve done something that would’ve resulted in my friend’s untimely demise without intervention. Do you know what tends to happen to people if they commit such an atrocity?”

Giancarlo looked at him challengingly. “Do share.”

“Oh, it speaks!” Kuroo exclaimed in delight. When he looked back at Giancarlo, his expression had morphed from delight into cold determination. “They don’t live long enough to regret their actions. You, Sunshine, have long since outlived whatever usefulness you had.”

Giancarlo pursed his lips, nodding ahead towards the fast-food place about a kilometre ahead. “We’re almost there. Do you trust me?”

Kuroo barked a laugh. “Hell no!”

“Smart man,” Giancarlo nodded. “But when we get there, you need to untie me. If I stay in the car, they’ll be suspicious as hell, if they aren’t by the sudden change in drivers. Once we drive to the parking lot, flash the lights twice, then turn them off completely.”

Kuroo shrugged. “We’ll see about the untying thing. Maybe I’ll tell them you tried to pull a switcheroo on them. See what they think,” he pondered, slowing down as they arrived. 

He pounded his fist on the van’s wall to signal Oikawa of their arrival, then turning off the lights without flashing them. 

Giancarlo frowned. “I literally told you to flash them twice not five minutes ago!” he hissed. 

“I distinctly remember saying that I don’t trust you not five minutes ago,” Kuroo pointed out, steering the van all the way to the back lot. 

Two cars were waiting for them, both dark sedans. Four men loitered around the cars, turning towards them when Kuroo stopped the car. They didn’t seem alarmed in the slightest, which had Kuroo turn towards Giancarlo with a spectacular ‘I fucking called it’ –look. 

Giancarlo rolled his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t have tried anything in my position.”

“Machiavellian, but true,” Kuroo agreed, discreetly cocking his gun and tucking it into his pants. He knocked on the van’s wall again, this time twice on the right and twice on the left.

Giancarlo observed his actions with interest. “Did you agree upon a code or something while I wasn’t watching?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Hell no. This is what we professionals like to call ‘experience’ and ‘team work’,” Kuroo explained, immensely enjoying Giancarlo’s response in the form of a rather formidable bitch-face. 

He opened the driver side door and hopped out. “Evening, gentlemen!” he greeted with a jovial wave. 

“Where’s the regular guy?” One of the guys asked. Kuroo pegged him as the leader, but these guys were clearly just foot soldiers. 

“He caught something nasty,” Kuroo shrugged, “might’ve been hooker-related, come to think of it. Now then, shall we get to it?”

The leader stepped closer, curiously peering into the van to see Giancarlo. “Why’s he sitting there? Isn’t he usually the one to talk? And why’s he banged up?”

Kuroo glanced at the Italian briefly. “To be honest, I got seriously annoyed by the accent,” he confided, leaning in to speak in a low tone. “I had to, you know? Boss said I can’t kill him, so what’s a guy to do?”

The leader stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. He clapped Kuroo’s shoulder happily, laughing boisterously the entire time. “I get it, I get it,” he calmed himself, letting go of Kuroo and stepping back. “Between you and me, boss only uses him because he owes him one. If I had my way, he would’ve been out of the picture a long time ago.”

“Preaching to the choir, bro,” Kuroo nodded sagely. “Let’s get to business, then?” he raised an eyebrow, pointing his thumb to the back of the van.

The man’s face darkened. “Is it true what they said? Is he a cop?”

Kuroo shrugged. So these morons thought they were cops. That's convenient. “I don’t know, man, they didn’t tell me shit. He was heavy as fuck, though, so you might need one of your pals to help out.”

The man turned back to his three friends, beckoning one of them over. Once the two were in front of the back door, Kuroo dug his phone out. “Go ahead, I gotta take this,” he stepped away, heading towards the front of the van. 

When the back door was opened, Oikawa was sitting there waiting. “Hi!” he greeted cheerfully before putting a bullet into the kneecap of the guy Kuroo had been talking to and one to the other one’s forehead. 

Kuroo heard the door open and pulled out his gun, shooting the two others before they could reach for their weapons. Once he was sure they were dead (the neat little holes in their foreheads were a clear indicator of their recently un-alived status), he turned to smile at Giancarlo, who was staring at him through the windshield. “See? This is how we professionals do it.”

He made sure the Italian was securely taped up in the van before he walked back around the van to see Oikawa disarm the cursing man. “In the knee, seriously?” he cringed. 

Oikawa glanced up at him before kicking the man in the ribs and holding a foot on his chest to keep him in place. “What? I figured we’re not going to want him running off before we ask him a few questions.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Kuroo admitted, sitting on the van’s back and scratching his head with his gun. “Right, time for some Q and A,” he stated. “I want the names of everyone involved in this little operation of yours. Preferably starting with the ones in charge.”

“Fuck you!” 

Kuroo blinked, looking affronted. “Seriously? Like, actually seriously? ‘Fuck you’? That’s what you’re going with? Come on, man, at least try,” he shook his head a little before stepping on the bleeding knee. 

“I’ve never met anyone besides Giancarlo!” the man screamed. “I just know they’re Eastern European!”

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa and nodded. Oikawa took his foot off the man and stepped back. 

“What’s Giancarlo’s part in this?” Kuroo continued and took his foot off the man’s knee. 

“He’s in charge of transporting the merch,” the man groaned, holding his knee. “He oversees the process from departure to arrival.”

“And what, you’re just here for the heavy lifting?” Kuroo asked sceptically. 

The man nodded vigorously. 

Kuroo shrugged. “Alright. If you say so. One more question: what was your plan for tonight?”

With a pained sigh, the man answered. “We were instructed that the package tonight wasn’t going abroad.”

“Please elaborate,” Oikawa piped up for the first time during the interrogation.

“It means that as long as the package ends up dead, they don’t care what we do. I’m not into dudes, so we agreed that I’d pull the trigger once…” he trailed off.

Oikawa crouched down, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at him. “’Once’ what?” he demanded.

“Once the rest of us were done,” the man confessed. 

Oikawa released his jaw, looking up at Kuroo.

Kuroo’s grit his teeth and nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, before calmly pointing the gun between the man’s eyes and pulling the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears I favour gun violence in my fics. Sorry about the, um... Well, I was going to apologize for torturing the bad guys, but then I thought "wait, no, they have it coming!"
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next time!


	5. In which things end and others begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interrogation and a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said at the start of this thing that this'll be around 5-6 chapters, but I'm currently starting chapter 7, so... affirmative. New estimate is at 8ish chapters?

Oikawa stood back up, shaking with pent-up rage. Kuroo patted the space next to him, and he slumped down with a sigh. 

“Do you wanna call HQ, or should I?” Kuroo asked quietly. 

“What I want is to kill each and every one of these fucks all over again. Since I can’t, I’ll settle for killing that son of a bitch who’s sitting right behind us,” he said, voice deceptively calm.

Kuroo looked at him apprehensively for a moment before digging out his phone and calling HQ. “Yo, boss?”

_“Go ahead.”_ Was he imagining it, or did Daichi sound even more uptight than usual?

“Uh, we’re at the rendezvous point,” Kuroo ignored the weird tension smoothly. “Four casualties, all unknown. No injuries to either of us. Martin and an unknown henchman confirmed Eastern Europe as the destination, Martin mentioned Ukraine. No other intel, apparently Giancarlo handled everything between here and there.”

_“Glad to hear you’re both alright. Did you get any info from Giancarlo?”_

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa. “Not yet.”

_“Alright. We’ll start looking into organized crime in Ukraine. Retrieval team arrived at the club three minutes ago, head back there as soon as you can. We’ll send a clean-up team to your location, ETA thirty minutes.”_

“Copy that,” Kuroo replied and hung up.

He and Oikawa looked at each other before standing up and closing the back doors. “If he doesn’t talk, he’s dead.”

“I would’ve thought you’d want to send him to jail with Martin,” Oikawa commented as they walked up to the front of the van.

Kuroo shook his head. “Jail’s too easy for scum like him.”

Oikawa couldn’t have agreed more.

He pulled open the passenger side door and looked up at Giancarlo. “Get out.”

Giancarlo made no effort to move from his spot. “Now, I’m sure we can—” 

Kuroo grabbed his arm and yanked him out, making him fall and hit the pavement gracelessly. “Oh I’m sorry, we’re you going to say something along the lines of ‘sort this out’?”

Giancarlo glared up at them, wincing as Kuroo pulled him to his feet and began walking him away from the van. Oikawa followed them silently, willing his hands to stop shaking.

“What do you want?” Giancarlo asked, looking back at them as he walked. “I can get—” 

Kuroo interrupted him by grabbing him by the back of his coat and forced him to his knees. “You can get on your knees like our friend did,” he hissed. All signs of the cheerfulness he’d displayed earlier were gone. 

Oikawa stepped up to stand in front of Giancarlo, and Kuroo moved to stand next to him. He glared down at Giancarlo, narrowing his eyes. “So, asshole. Wanna tell us who you work for? We’ll make it quick of you do.”

Oikawa stayed quiet, opting to cock his gun and point it at Giancarlo’s forehead instead. 

Giancarlo stared up at him defiantly, ignoring Kuroo’s biting words. “As if. Why would I help? You’re going to kill me anyway.”

Oikawa, without blinking, dropped his aim a little lower and fired. Giancarlo let out a scream when the bullet tore through his knee, shattering bone and ripping veins apart. He fell to his side swearing and cursing them in mixed English and Italian. 

Kuroo kicked him in the ribs for good measure, then wiped his boot on Giancarlo’s coat. “You make me sick. Give us a name,” he snarled and stepped back.

“I’m sure you idiots will figure it out soon enough. Iwaizumi did. He was quick about it, too.”

Oikawa raised the pistol again. His hands were shaking. “Don’t you dare talk about him.”

“You know, I’m kind of jealous of you. Hajime gives spectacular blowjobs, but I bet you’d be great at that, too. Wanna try?” Giancarlo spat at his feet. “Do it, you little bitch.”

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa, seeing his hands. “Want me to do it?” he asked quietly.

Oikawa, staring at Giancarlo, shook his head. “I’m good.” With those parting words, he flipped the gun around in his hand and smacked Giancarlo in the temple with it. 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow as Giancarlo was suddenly unconscious on the ground. “What happened to shooting his ass dead?” he asked jovially. 

Oikawa shrugged. “I’m not the one who’s first in line to finally put him out of his misery.”

 

*

 

They took the van back to the club and parked it right back to the alley they’d left from, the still-unconscious Giancarlo tied up and gagged in the back. The two walked back inside just in time to see Martin being escorted out by three men with impressive weapons. Kuroo gave him a happy little wave, which made Martin flip out. 

“I’ll get you for this! I’ll get you all for this!” he screamed, struggling futilely against his restraints. 

“Say hi to your cellmates for me!” Kuroo called back before waving one of the men closer to instruct him about Giancarlo.

Oikawa shook his head in amusement before heading towards the Champagne room, hoping Iwaizumi was still there. 

When he got there, he was surprised to see Sugawara tending to him. “Suga?”

Suga glanced at him and smiled. “Hello, Oikawa,” he replied, turning back to Iwaizumi. He was attaching a portable blood pressure band to his arm. “Are you alright?”

Oikawa sat on the couch next to Iwaizumi. “I’m fine. Is he?”

“I have no idea how much he was dosed with and how much alcohol is in his system, so he’s going to need his stomach pumped and an IV set, but he’ll be fine,” Suga answered bluntly. “I called an ambulance to take him to the hospital for that, he’s probably going to have to stay there for a few days.”

Oikawa nodded, taking in the information. “How are you here, by the way? I thought you’d be back in HQ?” he asked.

“I was in town running an errand for Daichi, actually,” Suga huffed. “Imagine my surprise when I get a call that one of my operatives is out cold because someone drugged him and if I could possibly forget the errand and check on him.”

“What was the errand?” Oikawa asked out of curiosity.

Suga’s cheeks flushed pink. Oikawa raised a hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to say something. “You know what, forget I asked.”

Kuroo interrupted them by knocking on the wall before poking his head in. “Yo, Suga! There’s two dudes with a stretcher wanting to grab ‘Zumi?”

Suga stood up with a nod. “Can you send them in?”

Kuroo nodded and disappeared. Suga turned to look at Oikawa. “I’m going to ride with him. Would you like to join me?” he prompted gently. 

There were only a few times Suga had ever seen Oikawa look even mildly uncomfortable when it came to accompanying Iwaizumi somewhere. Sure, the panicky look he’d had after The Paintball Incident could be classified as ‘uncomfortable’, but that came nowhere near the look Oikawa had on his face now. He didn’t look scared. Worried, certainly, but there was also a distinct look of hurt. 

Suga frowned. Something wasn’t right. “Are you sure you’re alright? I can send Kuroo to the hospital with him if you’d like to go somewhere and talk,” he offered. 

Oikawa shook his head. “No, it’s nothing, I’m…” his voice cracked and he couldn’t keep looking at Suga anymore. 

The paramedics came in with the stretcher before Suga had the chance to say anything. Oikawa moved to sit on the other side of the booth so he was out of the way. Suga went to the door and waved Kuroo over. Once the man came up to him, he nodded towards the paramedics. “Ride with them and stay with Iwaizumi. I’ll send someone to relieve you soon.”

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa quickly before nodding and following the paramedics out after Suga briefed them on the situation.

Suga sat down next to Oikawa when the room was clear of other people. “Would you like to go for a cup of tea, or coffee maybe?”

Oikawa nodded. 

 

*

 

Two ridiculously sugary and barely caffeinated drinks later, Suga and Oikawa made their way to a park, where they sat down on a bench. 

“So,” Suga said and took a sip from his latte, “what’s troubling you?”

Oikawa took a hearty sip before sighing. “I don’t know where to start, really,” he admitted. 

“How about the first thing you can think of, and just go from there?” Suga prompted. 

“First thing I can think of?” Oikawa repeated. “For the first time ever, I wanted to kill someone with my bare hands. Giancarlo, he said something about Hajime and I just… I wanted to kill him. But that’s not even what’s bothering me the most. What bothers me the most is that Hajime kept a huge fucking secret from me,” he said, all in one breath. 

Suga blinked. “Okay. Remember to breathe, Tooru. Do you want to tell me what secrets you’re talking about? It’ll most likely come up in the post-op report, anyway,” he gently reminded Oikawa.

Oikawa took a few calming breaths before replying. “We, uh, you know we reported about Martin asking some of the dancers to perform… um… sexual favours for extra cash?”

A heavy feeling settled in Suga’s gut. “I heard about it, yes.”

“Well, me and Hajime got careless,” Oikawa blurted. “We made out a few times in the club, and apparently Martin found out. Kuroo said that Martin asked Hajime to, uh,” he stuttered and took a long gulp of coffee before continuing, “to do that stuff. When I was in Martin’s office, I saw the security feed. That’s how I found out.”

The top-most feelings Suga felt at that moment were worry and sympathy, followed by sadness. He was also outraged that someone dared to treat his friends like that. After all his years working in his field, he still couldn’t believe people could be so cruel. “We’ll make sure he pays everything he’s done,” he promised quietly. 

Oikawa shook his head with a sad laugh. “Am I a horrible person?” he mused. “My partner’s currently in a fucking drug-induced coma, and all I can think about is how angry I am that he kept something like that from me!” 

Suga put an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders and pulled him close. “No, you’re not,” he reprimanded softly. “Tooru. I think you’re in shock, and a little bit overwhelmed by all that’s happened. You have every right to feel anger and everything else you’re feeling right now. Whatever happens next, happens. You’re a kind, generous person with a big heart, not horrible.”

Oikawa’s small smile made the weight in Suga’s gut lessen a fraction. “Thanks, Suga,” came the whispered reply.

“Absolutely no problem,” he assured, giving Oikawa a tight hug. Once he felt Oikawa loosen his grip, he pulled back and clasped his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders.

“Right. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish our coffees, I’m going to walk you home, give you something to help you sleep, and sleep on the couch. You’ll sleep for as long as you want, then we’ll see what to do next.”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “How exactly is finishing the coffee going to help me sleep?”

Suga flicked his wrist dismissively while taking a sip. “Don’t be silly, yours is decaf.”

 

*

 

The rest of the night went by Oikawa in a blur. Suga made good on his word and gave him two pills before sending him to bed. When he woke up the following morning (‘morning’, it was almost 2 pm already), he heard low voices from the living room.

He emerged from his bedroom with a confused frown to see Kuroo and Suga having coffee on the couch. 

Suga smiled brightly. “Good morning! How did you sleep?” 

“Like a log,” Oikawa replied, pointing to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“In the pot,” Suga nodded, turning back to Kuroo and their conversation. “Please continue.”

Kuroo checked to see if Oikawa was still in hearing range before doing as asked. “Right, so the doctor said that he’s probably going to wake up some time today, but there’s no telling how much he actually remembers about what happened.”

“Dammit,” Suga sighed, frowning into his coffee. “I was worried about that. Basically, we have two options here. Number one, we debrief him as soon as he wakes up when the memories are fresh, if there are any. Number two, we wait a few days for him to be fully aware again before we debrief.”

“You’re the medical professional here, what’s your recommendation?” Kuroo asked, emptying his cup and setting it on the table. He grabbed a donut from the bakery box he’d brought with him. 

“As a physician, I’d recommend we wait. As a friend, same thing. But we can’t afford to wait, because we still don’t know if he found out anything from Giancarlo or Martin,” he lamented.

Kuroo wolfed down half of his donut in one bite. “Giancarlo said something about him figuring it out. Would be a lot more work if he doesn’t remember.”

Oikawa came to the living room with a cup of coffee, his eyes zooming in on the donuts. “Nice,” he commented, grabbing one as he sat down on an armchair across the table from the couch. “So, what were you two talking about?”

Suga decided he was not going to sugar-coat it. They were adults, emotional turmoil be damned. “We were discussing about when it would be best to debrief Iwaizumi of last night’s events,” he stated, watching Oikawa’s reactions closely. 

Oikawa paused, but slowly continued eating. “Is he awake yet?” he asked carefully.

Kuroo shook his head. “Nope. The doctor’s guessing he’ll wake up sometime soon, though.”

“Guessing?” Oikawa scoffed. “That’s reassuring.”

“You know as well as I do they can’t exactly give him more drugs to wake him up,” Suga admonished him gently. “Educated guesses are all they can do at this point.”

Oikawa’s shoulders slumped. “I know, I just… I’m frustrated,” he sighed, looking at Suga pleadingly. “Can’t we just fast-forward to where we don’t have to deal with this clusterfuck of a job anymore?”

Suga leaned over to put a comforting hand on his knee. “If it were possible, yes. But alas, we have to deal the fallout.”

 

*

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

The steady beeping was the first thing Iwaizumi recognized in his fuzzy and not entirely on-track mind. It was consistent and annoying, and it was making his head hurt.

Maybe his headache had nothing to do with the beeping, though. It kind of seemed like it might’ve been there before the beeping, he just hadn’t realized it. Come to think of it, it probably was due to something else. Had he drunk too much tequila at the—

_The club!_

He sat up in a hurry, only to sway back down to the pillows.

“Easy, there.”

He looked to the direction of the voice in confusion. Suga. 

“Suga?” he frowned. His own voice sounded oddly grating to his ears. 

Suga got up from his chair and came up to him, grabbing the bed’s remote and moving him into a more sitting position. “You’re in the hospital, Iwaizumi,” he explained once the bed was set. He sat down by Iwaizumi’s hip, folding his hands into his lap.

“Yeah, I kinda gathered that from the scrubs,” Iwaizumi replied, sitting up a bit more with a grunt. 

“I’m sorry I have to do this the minute you wake up, but it’s important. Do you remember anything from last night?” Suga asked, keeping an eye on the monitors next to the bed. 

Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes. “Not much. I remember being at the club, there was something…” 

Blond hair. Piercings. Smirk. _Danger._

“Giancarlo,” Iwaizumi breathed, “Giancarlo was there. Suga, tell me you caught him and he didn’t get away!” he demanded. 

Suga bit his lip. “Um, he didn’t. He’s in custody.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? Thank fuck,” he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “Is Tooru alright?”

Suga patted his leg sympathetically. “Not a scratch on him,” he offered with a small smile. “Do you remember anything else?” 

“Give me a minute,” Iwaizumi muttered, covering his eyes for a moment before looking back up. “I thought I just saw static on the ceiling.”

“You probably did, considering how much GHB was in your system,” Suga commented. “How are you feeling, by the way? I should’ve asked that first.”

“Nah, we should focus on the important stuff first, but since you asked: like shit. My stomach feels weird, my throat’s scratchy, my head hurts and I’m seeing static. But other than that, I’m fine,” Iwaizumi replied with a lopsided smile. 

Suga shook his head. “You field agents and your definition of ‘fine’,” he muttered. 

Iwaizumi gave a short chuckle. “I feel like I’m forgetting something important,” he admitted, dropping his hands to his lap. 

“If it comes back, it’ll come back,” Suga comforted. “There’s more important things to worry about now. You’re probably getting discharged tomorrow, if not tonight.”

Iwaizumi looked around the room until his eyes focused on the clock above the door. It was already 4pm. “Tonight would be good,” he nodded. “I, uh, kinda have something I need to talk to Tooru about.”

Suga’s smile wavered before he controlled his expressions again. Iwaizumi had known the man long enough to know what that meant. “He knows, doesn’t he. As do you.”

“Uh huh,” Suga nodded. “If he hadn’t seen the security footage last night, he wouldn’t.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “I should’ve told him ages ago, but I was too much of a chickenshit to do it. Is he mad? I bet he’s mad,” he hazarded a look at Suga, whose smile was a touch sadder than five minutes ago.

“He’s not mad, he’s… frustrated and hurt, basically. It’s not so much about what you did, but that you didn’t tell him,” Suga remarked. “He’s sitting right outside, by the way. Want me to go get him?” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Iwaizumi nodded. “Better late than never, right?”

Suga stood up and fluffed Iwaizumi’s pillows before walking around the bed and towards the door. “I’ll talk to your doctor about letting you go home early. We can talk more later,” he stated.

He stopped just before his hand touched the door handle. “Um, before I go,” he looked at Iwaizumi from over his shoulder. “Since this job resulted in a situation where it would have endangered your colleagues if you hadn’t given your consent, you’re as of now on an extended medical leave until further notice. We’ll talk about the specifics later, but your status as a field agent is currently ‘inactive’.”

Iwaizumi’s expression darkened. “This is not that big of a deal, Suga, I’m not gonna—”

“Iwaizumi,” Suga interrupted, turning fully to give him a look that would be best described as Angry Mother Bear About To Unleash Hell, “coerced consent is NOT consent. You know that, you were in the training last spring. My policy on this is, and always has been, clear: until I’m sure you’re mentally 100% in the field, you’re not on active duty.”

With Iwaizumi rendered speechless, Suga nodded one last time before turning on his heels and opening the door and stepping out into the hall.

 

*

 

Oikawa straightened up when he saw Suga. “He’s awake?” he asked hopefully. 

Kuroo, who was sitting one chair over from Oikawa, perked up as well.

Suga nodded. “He doesn’t remember much, but it’s a start. He wants to see you,” he directed his words to Oikawa, who nodded and stood up.

Without another word, Oikawa disappeared into Iwaizumi’s room.

Suga sat down in the chair vacated by him. Kuroo poked his shoulder until he looked over with a raised eyebrow.

“What’d he say?” 

“Not much,” Suga admitted. “He remembered Giancarlo. He also said that he feels like he’s forgetting something important, so there’s definitely a chance he’ll remember it with some encouragement.”

“Did you mention Ukraine? Because Akaashi said there’s a ton of more or less sketchy characters in that side of the world, we could use something to narrow that down,” Kuroo remarked. 

“Despite the surprising level of lucidity, I didn’t,” Suga denied. “I don’t think he could’ve focused enough to remember anything specific.”

Kuroo leaned back and crossed his hands behind his head. “Waiting it is,” he murmured. “Wanna grab some food? I’m starving.”

 

*

 

Oikawa sat down by Iwaizumi’s hip, the same spot Suga had sat just minutes earlier. Iwaizumi smiled hesitantly to him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Oikawa gave a shaky smile in return. “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty good, all things considered,” he responded quietly, then shook his head. “No, that’s a lie. I feel like a giant ass and I have no right to even look at you after the shit I pulled,” he confessed, looking away.

Oikawa leaned in to cup his chin and gently turned him to meet his eyes. “Hajime. Look at me, and tell me everything.”

Iwaizumi did as he asked. He told Oikawa about the man in Martin’s office, the one who had a disgusting leer and grabby hands. He told Oikawa about the woman from the bank, who had been disinclined to give Martin the loan he wanted. He told Oikawa about the lawyer with the piercing. 

“I’m pretty sure something happened last night as well, but I can’t remember it clearly,” he finished.

In all the time Oikawa had known the man looking back at him, he’d never once seen him look this shameful and guilty of his actions. It broke his heart. “Hajime, I—”

“I’m so, so sorry, Tooru,” Iwaizumi interrupted him and grabbed his hand. “I should’ve told you the minute I knew we were compromised. I completely understand if you don’t—”

“Stop for a second,” Oikawa put his other hand over Iwaizumi’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “I’ve got something say, and you’re going to listen.” 

He took a breath, then launched into the rant he’d been bottling up since last night. He took his hand off of Iwaizumi’s mouth to slap his chest. “You moron! I love you, you absolute idiot! Are you out of your tiny monkey brain?! Nothing you do will ever make me not love every fibre of your being, and you’ll be an even bigger jackass than you already are if you think something like this would make me love you any less. Am I mad you? Yes. Am I hurt that you didn’t tell me? Hell yes! Am I disgusted by these people? Abso-fucking-lutely!” 

He shifted up to sit closer to Iwaizumi and cupped his cheek. “Do I think you’re the most amazing, most brilliant, and sometimes the dumbest asshole I’ve ever met? Do I love you so much it makes my insides boil? Do you make me so frustrated that I don’t know if I want to kill you or fuck you? Yes, to all of that.”

He closed his eyes and gave his astonished lover a kiss on the forehead. “I expect you to apologize for being an idiot sandwich for at least a week. And you’re on coffee duty for, like, two months. And no guns in the bedroom.”

Leaning back, he gave Iwaizumi a small smile, ignoring the tears welling up in his eyes. “That last one should be obvious, really.”

Iwaizumi didn’t waste another second. He surged up and engulfed Oikawa in the tightest hug he managed without ripping out his IV. “You’ve been watching too much Gordon Ramsay again,” he chuckled as he buried his face into Oikawa’s neck and breathed him in gratefully. 

“Hey, just because you prefer Nigella doesn’t mean every other tv-chef isn’t good,” Oikawa replied, curling his fingers into the back of Iwaizumi’s scrubs.

“The woman makes avocado on toast look sexy, what can I say,” Iwaizumi defended himself before sighing. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot sandwich,” Iwaizumi whispered and ran his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, stopping only to clutch the shorter locks in the back of his head.

Oikawa turned his head enough to press a kiss into Iwaizumi’s hair. “You’re forgiven. Don’t pull this kind of shit without telling me again, or I’ll rip off your toenails.”

Iwaizumi began shaking. For a moment, Oikawa thought there was something wrong with him, and he was about to ask if he was alright when he heard the breathless little laughs in his ear. He bit his lip with a smile. 

“You nerd,” Iwaizumi snorted, laughing probably harder than he should have. 

“Excuse you!” Oikawa huffed and pulled back from the laughter-loosened hug to look at his smiling lover. “Alright, maybe I’m a little bit of a nerd,” he agreed.

“You’re more than a little bit of a nerd, but I’ll let it slide,” Iwaizumi conceded.

Oikawa smiled brightly as he remembered a certain detail. “Oh, I have a surprise for you!”

Iwaizumi frowned. “You know I don’t like surprises,” he replied, a touch of suspicion in his voice.

Oikawa flicked his wrist dismissively. “I promise you’ll love this one,” he assured. “Suga told you we have Giancarlo in custody, right?”

“He mentioned it, yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed, now even more suspicious. 

Oikawa’s smile turned vicious. “He’s no longer considered an asset. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi stared at him in confusion before it dawned on him. Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Would be an awful shame if something were to happen to him, say, on his way to a remote prison?”

Nodding eagerly, Oikawa hopped off the bed.

“Rest up, I’ll go grab some coffee.” He gave Iwaizumi’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “I can’t believe I’m subjected to the machine-brewed swill they dare to call ‘coffee’,” he muttered as he walked out.

Iwaizumi watched him go with a smile. He couldn’t wait for all this shit to be wrapped up so they could just go home. Maybe make a little detour on the way.

 

*

 

Oikawa strolled towards the coffee machine, not really looking forward to drinking shitty hospital coffee but looking forward to caffeine in general. 

He stopped in front of the machine and began considering the operating mechanism when someone bumped into him. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” the man who’d bumped into his shoulder apologized and continued walking. 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he muttered, turning back to the machine whilst rubbing his shoulder. 

He had the time to wonder why all the letters on it looked jumbled all of a sudden when a bout of vertigo made him stumble backwards into someone’s arms.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” 

Oikawa looked up and recognized the man who’d bumped into him smiling down at him. “Here, let me help you sit down,” the man said and began moving him towards the nearest emergency exit. 

Oikawa tried to struggle but found his limbs not responding to his demands. “Who the fuck…?” 

“No need to worry about that,” the man said, dragging him into the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if there wasn't enough angst in this fic already. My sincerest apologies. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. In which things are out of the frying pan, but on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's disappearance leads to actions that have consequences in the long run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy, I finally stopped editing this!  
> Thanks for all the support, I'll try to wrap this up in a timely manner... One more chapter and an epilogue to go!

Suga and Kuroo came back from their lunch break just in time to see Iwaizumi signing a few papers and a doctor looking mildly disapproving. 

“Are you getting discharged?” Suga asked with a frown, looking alternately at Iwaizumi and the doctor. 

“He’s signing himself out against my recommendation,” the doctor replied smoothly, with a pointed glare towards Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I feel fine. I don’t have to sit here for a few more hours until you decide I’m fit,” he stated, finishing the papers with flourish and handing the clipboard back to the doctor. “There, all signed. I’m responsible for my actions, not gonna sue you if I hit my head on the way out and die of an aneurysm,” he said with a polite smile.

The doctor gave him one last glare before accepting the clipboard and leaving the three to their devices.

Suga waited until he was out of hearing range before crossing his arms and giving Iwaizumi a stern look as the man began pulling on the clothes Kuroo had provided earlier. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Right now? Getting dressed,” Iwaizumi responded, glaring at the slightly too long sweatpants for a second before pulling them on. “Then I’m going to find Oikawa.”

“Is he lost?” Kuroo asked and grinned unapologetically. 

“He went to get coffee from the machine down the hall half an hour ago. A nurse brought his phone here,” Iwaizumi grabbed the device from the bed and showed it to them, “because she recognized us from the background image.”

He clicked the phone on, and sure enough, there was a picture of them as the background. Behind them was the Colosseum. Oikawa was grinning while giving Iwaizumi an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, and Iwaizumi’s expression was exasperated but affectionate.

“Now why would he leave his phone on the floor like that?” Iwaizumi asked them. 

Suga’s eyes widened. “You think someone grabbed him?”

“That’s what I’m about to go find out,” Iwaizumi growled, pulling on the t-shirt and throwing the hoodie over it before pocketing the phone. 

As he was about to walk out, Suga grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “Kuroo, go to the security office and see the surveillance tapes,” he instructed, not looking at Iwaizumi.

Kuroo glanced between them, nodded and headed out.

Iwaizumi shook Suga’s hand off and turned to face him. “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

“Did you forget something? I expressly told you: you’re not on active duty.”

Iwaizumi stared at him as if he’d grown a second head out of thin fucking air. “What?! Are you fucking serious?” he yelled incredulously. 

Suga held is ground admirably against Iwaizumi’s fury. “Yes, I’m fucking serious. Right now, you’re not mentally stable enough to work, especially in a situation like this!”

“Suga,” Iwaizumi growled, “do you realize what it means if I’m right? It means that some very fucking dangerous people have him, and we have no idea who! He’s gonna end up dead or worse if I don’t do something right fucking now!”

“Kuroo can start investigating, and we’ll call another team down,” Suga countered. “I swear to god I will have you sedated if you so much as—”

“They’re not gonna make it in time! Who knows how far they’ve already gotten to,” Iwaizumi insisted. 

Kuroo ran back in and interrupted whatever Suga had been about to say. “He’s gone,” he stated, “a dude in dark clothes and a baseball cap bumped into him. I’m thinking he must’ve injected something fast-acting, because Oikawa went down quick. Baseball cap took him to the stairs and into the garage. They left in a white van. I couldn’t see the plates, but I’m pretty sure we can track it. I forwarded the footage to HQ, Akaashi’s on it now.”

Suga and Iwaizumi glared at each other, neither giving in. Kuroo groaned and smacked them both upside the head. “Whatever the fuck it is, it can wait,” he barked at them. “They’ve only got a half an hour head start, we can get on their trail while it’s still warm.”

Iwaizumi didn’t take his eyes off Suga. “I’m going, whether you like or not. We can discuss my insubordination later.”

“We will,” Suga promised, and the three finally left the hospital room.

 

*

 

Once they were in the car, Kuroo driving with Iwaizumi riding shotgun and Suga sitting at the back, Iwaizumi called Akaashi and put him on speaker. “Anything?”

_“I’ve been following the van since it left the hospital. It’s at the bridge on 58th. The traffic cameras in this city are appalling.”_

Kuroo smirked, heading that direction and caring very little about the rest of the traffic around them. “I know a shortcut,” he noted as he turned one corner fairly fast.

In the backseat, Suga hurried to lock his seatbelt. “Daichi, are you on the line?”

_“I’m here. What’re you doing there, Suga?”_

“Monitoring these idiots,” the man in question replied, glaring at the two field agents up front. “Remind me to see that disciplinary actions are taken towards agent Iwaizumi, for disobeying a direct order.”

_“…Duly noted. Putting that aside for now, we still have no ID on the Ukrainians Martin was talking about.”_

“Ukrainians?” Iwaizumi asked. “Can you clarify?”

This time, it was Akaashi who answered. _“According to Kuroo’s interrogation, Giancarlo is working for some Ukrainians. They were buying Martin’s dancers with Giancarlo as their middleman. There are several organized groups in that region, none of whom specialize in human trafficking directly. We haven’t been able to pin down any particular—”_

“Any of them based in Kiev?” Iwaizumi continued. Something about Kiev was nagging at him in the back of his mind, just barely out of his reach. 

_“Unsurprisingly, half of them.”_

“Are you remembering something?” Suga frowned. “This is why I told you to stay put, your brain is still recovering from the effects of the drugs!” 

“Goddammit, Suga, now’s not the time!” Iwaizumi argued. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely got to do with Kiev.”

Kuroo made another sharp turn. “At least that’s something, right?” he spoke. “I have a visual on the bridge. No sign of the van. Akaashi?”

_“It should be there. The last shot of it is at the traffic lights right before the bridge, but there’s no shot of it across the river.”_

Iwaizumi leaned forward and squinted. “There!” he pointed towards the desolate area under the bridge, where the van was barely visible from behind an open storage container.

Kuroo hit the gas and they practically flew across the intersection, miraculously emerging unscathed. Horns blared after them, but none of them cared enough to even look back. “We’re heading under the bridge.”

_“Copy that. Proceed with caution, I have no visual on you.”_

“Roger that,” Iwaizumi responded and yanked the glove compartment open. He took out two handguns, making sure they were both loaded before offering one to Suga.

Suga took the offered gun. “Just so you know, I have horrible aim.”

“As long as you don’t shoot us, you’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi replied grimly. 

Kuroo stopped the car about twenty meters from the container. No one was shooting at them yet. “Well, isn’t this suspicious,” he commented, grabbing his own gun from his shoulder holster. 

“No movement, we’re heading out,” Iwaizumi noted, mostly for Akaashi and Daichi’s benefit. 

_“Affirmative. Shoot to incapacitate. We need intel.”_

Suga undid his seatbelt. Kuroo and Iwaizumi opened their doors and slipped out fast, taking cover behind the car. “Come on, Suga,” Kuroo called. “We’re covering you.”

Suga came out of the car, and joined them behind it. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Iwaizumi nodded to Kuroo, briefly gesturing for him to go around the container before slowly heading towards it head on. “Anyone in there, come out with your hands up!” he yelled clearly. No use going for the stealth approach, not with the way Kuroo drove them there.

Nothing. No movement whatsoever. Iwaizumi and Kuroo advanced.

Iwaizumi reached the container first. He rounded the open door and pointed his gun at nothing. The container was empty. With a deep frown, he swung the other door closed, keeping his gun on the van.

His breath was caught in his throat. The van, like the container, was empty. No driver, no passenger. No Oikawa. 

He looked at the ground. There were two sets of footprints, drag marks, and a tire track leading away from the container. “Fuck!” he screamed in frustration, kicking at the container door. 

Kuroo took one look at him and waved a hand to Suga. “All clear,” he called.

Suga stood up, grabbing the phone from the car and putting the gun to his waist as he ran over. “No one?”

“No one,” Kuroo confirmed. “They switched cars, from the looks of it.”

“Shit,” Suga sighed. 

Iwaizumi leaned on the container door and slid down, ending up sitting on the ground. He covered his eyes with his hands, the gun cold against his skin. “Fuck,” he hissed.

A hand eased the gun out of his lax grip gently. When he looked up, he saw Suga standing next to him with a grim expression. 

“You realize there’s no way in hell I’m sitting this one out. I don’t give a shit if you fire me for it,” he told him.

“I know,” Suga admitted. “All I ask is you don’t get yourself killed before I think of a fitting punishment for you.”

 

*

 

When Oikawa woke up, his head was hurting like hell. He didn’t remember drinking. He’d gone to get some coffee and… 

“Awake, are you?”

He looked up, or tried to at least. A black fabric was tied around his eyes, so he could only guess at where the person speaking was. Probably somewhere fairly close to where he was.

“I am now,” he replied. “Where am I?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to… Well, you know how it goes,” the voice responded, amusement colouring the accented voice. 

If Oikawa had to guess, he’d go for Russian or Eastern European. He didn’t have an ear for accents, much to his regret. 

“Alright. Who are you?” he inquired, testing his restraints. His hands were bound together above his head with some sort of rope, while his legs were tied up slightly apart. Much to his annoyance, the restraints were tight enough to keep him from moving. 

“That is also something you don’t need to know. Now, it’s time you answer my questions.”

“What would you like to know?” he asked politely.

“Who are you working for? We know you’re not a bartender. You’re a spy, like your friend. The stripper. We saw you in the hospital.”

Oikawa shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he claimed, as he usually did when encountered the same question. 

The crowbar to the ribs was an unpleasant surprise, especially when he couldn’t see it coming. He let out a short scream of surprise when it hit his right side. 

“I’ll ask again. Who are you working for?”

“That’s a horrible incentive,” Oikawa grit his teeth. “I’d rather have something to drink.”

“That can be arranged. But first you answer my question.”

“No can do,” Oikawa shook his head again. 

Two more harsh strikes to his ribs had him gasping for air. A hand appeared at his throat, squeezing hard. He struggled and tried to get the tight hold to loosen, but it didn’t.  
Just as he was about to black out in oxygen deprivation, the hand was removed. He coughed and gasped until he could breathe deep again. “How am I supposed to answer any questions if you choke me?!” he rasped.

He shivered when he felt hot breath right by his ear. 

“I don’t care. I will find out anyway. I could kill you now to get it over with.”

“Go ahead,” Oikawa spat at what he supposed was the floor. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

The man laughed. A cold feeling crept up Oikawa’s spine at the sound.

“We’ll see in a few hours, spy. We’ll see.”

 

*

 

“Stop,” Iwaizumi pointed at a 7-11 on their way back to Oikawa’s apartment, where they’d established a field base.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything as he parked in front of the small convenience store. “Bring me something, too!” he called after his senior agent when he opened the door and stepped out.

Suga frowned from the backseat. “Why are we stopping?”

Kuroo shrugged, tapping on the steering wheel. “Maybe he wanted a pack of gum? Hell if I know.”

“He says jump, you ask ‘how high’?” Suga asked scathingly. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Kuroo turned on his seat to look at Suga directly. “Not asking stupid questions keeps us alive sometimes. We might not be in a fire fight right now, but I’m sure as shit not gonna start questioning every decision a senior agent makes, especially when the agent in question is someone who’s saved my ass more than a few times. If he wants a pack of gum, he can get himself a fucking pack of gum.”

Kuroo turned back and relaxed on his seat. “Besides,” he added as an afterthought, “it’s a bit unsettling.”

“What is?” Suga’s frown deepened slightly. 

“This whole thing. I feel… unease,” Kuroo shuddered.

Suga peered into the store from where he sat, and saw Iwaizumi talking to the cashier. He could see the tension in Iwaizumi’s shoulders clear as day, and the rigid way he held himself as he headed back to the car with his purchases.

Iwaizumi sat back in and tossed candy bars to them both and proceeded to unwrap the pack of cigarettes he’d bought for himself. He cracked his window open and put a cigarette between his lips, lighting it with the lighter he’d just bought. 

Kuroo inhaled his chocolate as he started the engine again and got them en route to the apartment again. 

Suga frowned disapprovingly from the backseat. Iwaizumi glanced at him through the rear-view mirror and rolled his eyes. “Suga, you know I respect the hell out of you and everything you do for us, but I swear to god if you say one thing about ‘unhealthy coping mechanisms’, I will scream.”

“In the interest of protecting our ear drums, I’ll keep my opinion to myself,” Suga declared, leaning back and unwrapping his candy pointedly. 

 

*

 

A few hours later, Oikawa would’ve happily told them whatever they wanted to hear. Just… not what they wanted to hear. 

He’d never been waterboarded before. That was certainly an experience in itself. One he’d very much like to never go through again, but an experience nonetheless. After getting waterboarded with vodka, he doubted he’d ever be able to drink it without reliving this.

He was currently alone, lying on the cold, hard concrete floor of what he assumed was his cell. His hands and legs were still bound tight, and the blindfold was still firmly in place. Not one to idly wait for things to progress in one way or another, he began rubbing his head against the floor in hopes of loosening the blindfold.

Much to his surprise, he succeeded. He shook his head to offset the newly-loosened piece of fabric and looked around. “Well, I didn’t expect to be at the Ritz, but this is frankly appalling,” he muttered as he scanned the bare room. It was definitely someone’s basement. There were no windows, the ventilation was dreadful, and the only door was made of what looked a lot like reinforced steel.

His grandeur plans of escape were subsequently scrapped and set on the back-burner for later revision.

 

*

Suga had left Kuroo and Iwaizumi to their devices after Iwaizumi had gone through half his pack in just a few hours, shaking his head and muttering something about looking into murder and plausible deniability. It was already nearing two am, and Iwaizumi and Kuroo were nowhere near finding out where Oikawa could possibly be held and who had him.

“Did we seriously not get anything useful out of that Italian asshat?” Iwaizumi rubbed his temples.

Kuroo shook his head as he dug through Oikawa’s fridge. “Nope. He claims he’s ‘just an innocent bystander, you’re treating me horribly, you broke my nose’,” he imitated.

Iwaizumi snorted. “If he’s an innocent bystander, I’m a hobbit.”

“As delighted as I am by the Tolkien reference, I think the situation calls for a little more Terminator than Silmarillion,” Kuroo replied, grabbing a box of Thai takeout. He smelled it, thought about it, and nodded before putting it on the table and grabbing a beer to go with it. He walked back into the living room with them and an unopened box of cookies clutched between his teeth.

Iwaizumi nodded, grabbing the cookies with a mild look of distaste and opening the box. He nibbled on one and frowned. “Alright. Here’s what I’ve been thinking,” he started, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen and began drawing. He drew two circles, labelling them ‘Club’ and ‘Kiev’.

“Martin and the man from the meet said a Ukrainian group is buying people from here. From what I can piece together,” he narrated, drawing a third circle and labelling it ‘Asshat’, “the dancers leave the club with Giancarlo, who takes them to Europe.”

Kuroo had inhaled half of Oikawa’s chicken with peanuts while Iwaizumi explained. “Yeah. We have no name for the group, though. And the guys from last night apparently were hired muscle to deal with problematic cases,” he added meaningfully.

Iwaizumi grabbed another cookie. “Did you happen to read the report from six months back, when Giancarlo appeared in Rome?”

Shaking his head, Kuroo put the takeout box down and took a sip of beer. “I skimmed through it,” he admitted. “Wasn’t there something about Interpol being involved?”

“That’s what I’m getting at,” Iwaizumi drew another circle, this one labelled ‘Interpol’. “The intel Giancarlo was transporting was a list of agents involved in human trafficking. How much do you want to bet this is the same group?” 

He drew a line between ‘Kiev’ and ‘Interpol’, then looked up at Kuroo. “Give me your phone.”

Wordlessly Kuroo handed over the device, only raising an eyebrow. 

Iwaizumi speed-dialled HQ, and after a few beeps, the call was answered by a tired-sounding Ennoshita.

_“HQ here.”_

“Sorry to wake you up, but I need a number to agent Jacobs of Interpol,” Iwaizumi replied, getting straight to business. 

No response. He could just imagine Ennoshita nodding. “Are you nodding?” he asked with a grin.

_“Shit, yeah, I was. Sorry about that. Agent Jacobs, you said? Standby.”_

“You got something?” Kuroo inquired, chasing after the last few pieces of chicken with his fork. 

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi shrugged. “He and his partner came to pick up the two dirty agents from Rome. He said to call if I need a favour, so…” he trailed off.

Kuroo nodded in understanding. “Nice.”

_“Alright, I’ve got the number for you. I can send it to the phone you’re calling from now, or would you prefer your own phone?”_

“Send it to this one, I’m not sure where my phone is at the moment,” Iwaizumi confessed. 

_“Copy that. Anything else I can do?”_

“No, thanks for this. We’ll call in with updates if we get something.”

_“Okay. In case you call when I’m not on standby, happy hunting.”_

Iwaizumi thanked him again before hanging up. Not 20 seconds later, Kuroo’s phone beeped with received information. Iwaizumi opened the message and hit the number on the screen. “Here’s hoping he’s not sleeping.”

 

*

 

Giancarlo lied on the less-than-comfortable cot he’d been provided when he’d been stuck in his cell. He’d expected to get shot in the head, not pistol-whipped and thrown into a cell. These people keep surprising him, and he did not like surprises.

One more surprise came his way, when his cell door was opened at three in the morning and in stepped none other than Iwaizumi.

He overcame his surprise fairly quickly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon, caro,” he greeted. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Iwaizumi glared at him coldly. “You’re gonna call your boss and set up a meet for us.”

Giancarlo raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?” he responded, sitting up with some difficulty. His knee, having been shot by Oikawa, was wrapped in a cast and he was lucky he’d gotten some pain medication.

“I won’t beat your face to pulp,” Iwaizumi snapped, holding Giancarlo’s phone out to him. “Make the call.”

“Your persuasion technique leaves a lot to be desired,” Giancarlo shook his head, taking the phone. “How’s your head, by the way?”

Iwaizumi clenched his fists. “None of your fucking business. I should just kill you right now and be done with it,” he growled. 

“Really?” Giancarlo drawled. “Then why don’t you? Hmm? Is it because I have something you want?”

Iwaizumi could just feel the rage boiling beneath his skin. Giancarlo always, always, managed to get under his skin. No matter what he did, there the bastard was. Smirking away, taunting him. 

He let his eyes flicker down to the injury in Giancarlo’s knee before he kicked at the cast as hard as he could manage.

Giancarlo screamed, dropping the phone as he grabbed his knee. _“Vaffanculo! Ti ammazzo!”_

Iwaizumi leaned in and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Make the fucking call.”

With a growl, Giancarlo acquiesced. He punched in the number and hit the call button. Before he could raise it to his ear, Iwaizumi grabbed the phone and stepped back, holding the phone to his own ear.

_“Where the fuck are you?”_

The voice was definitely Slavic. Iwaizumi glared at the moaning Giancarlo and stepped outside the cell, closing the door after him. “Giancarlo can’t come to the phone right now, but he sends his regards,” he replied.

The man on the other end was quiet for a moment before he began talking.

_“Who are you?”_

“That doesn’t matter. I have a proposition for you, Mr Antonov.”

There was another moment of tense silence. _“Who the fuck are you?”_

‘Nailed it,’ Iwaizumi thought. “Like I said, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know who you are, I know you work for a certain Mr Kravchuk, and I know exactly what you’ve been doing, but I’m willing to let that go if you agree to my proposition.” 

_“What kind of a proposition?”_

“Well, you have my partner and I have your middleman. I think you can figure it out yourself,” Iwaizumi glanced at Kuroo, who stood in the hallway waiting. 

_“…You want to trade?”_

“I do,” Iwaizumi agreed. “How about it? I bet your boss would appreciate getting this asshole back in business.”

_“No. I ask you to come alone, you bring your team with you. No deal.”_

“Obviously I’m not going to come alone and unarmed, do you think I’m an idiot?” Iwaizumi snapped. “No. I’m bringing people, you’re bringing people, we’ll make the trade, and everyone walks out and goes on their merry ways. Is that acceptable?”

He waited with baited breath for the man on the other end to reply. When he did, Iwaizumi smirked.

 _“East dock, pier 17. Two hours.”_ He hung up unceremoniously. 

Iwaizumi looked at Kuroo and nodded. “Jacobs was right. Giancarlo’s contact is Antonov, who in turn is in direct contact with Kravchuk. He agreed to meet us in two hours for a trade.”

Kuroo released the breath he’d been holding. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Iwaizumi asked. The mischievous look on Kuroo’s face made him instantly around ten times more suspicious.

“Walk around with those gigantic, titanium balls?”

Iwaizumi smacked his friend upside the head and shoved him forward along the hallway. “Come on, we’re gonna need some equipment for this.”

 

*

 

After gathering a rather impressive amount of weapons, Kevlar vests and the mandatory earpieces, the two briefed a tactical team Daichi had dispatched on their duties. The team was to split up with half of them covering exits to the docks and the other half covering Iwaizumi and Kuroo as they made the trade. While they’d apprehend as may suspects as possible on their end, Jacobs and his team would descend upon Kravchuk in Kiev.

Their team had gone ahead to establish their positions, whereas Iwaizumi and Kuroo made their own preparations before leaving.

Iwaizumi and Kuroo were currently escorting Giancarlo to their car. They’d bound him with duct tape and put a generous piece of it over his mouth as well. Iwaizumi was in no mood for his shit.

Once they sat in the car, Giancarlo in the back and Kuroo driving, Iwaizumi took out the not-so-full cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one up without further ado.

Giancarlo muttered something behind his gag. Iwaizumi turned on his seat and blew some smoke in the man’s face. “Shut the fuck up,” he simply said, then nodded to Kuroo.  
Iwaizumi grabbed the radio they had on the dashboard and turned it to their previously agreed-upon channel. “Alright people, let’s get this shit over with. It’s really late, or early, depending on how much sleep you got, and I wanna get to bed and sleep for a week as soon as possible.”

A chorus of agreements and laughter rang through their earpieces, making the two agents share a smile. Kuroo was about to drive off when Suga stopped them by opening the back door and sitting down next to Giancarlo.

Both Iwaizumi and Kuroo turned to stare at him incredulously, Iwaizumi’s cigarette hanging precariously on his lip. Suga shrugged. “Odds are you’ll end up needing a medic. I might as well come with.”

“Is Daichi aware of this?” Iwaizumi asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Suga nodded as he fitted an earpiece into his ear and flicked the small device on. “Of course.”

“Uh huh,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and nudged Kuroo’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Kuroo replied easily, speeding off towards the dock.

Iwaizumi cracked his window open to let the smoke out and stared at the street, deep in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alllrighty, next chapter's going to be wrapping up a lot of loose ends. I'm still kind of trying to choose between two versions of how it's going to go down, but I'll try to update next weekend.   
> As usual, you're more than welcome to yell at me here, or on tumblr (i'm hangoverhater over there as well) :D 
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next time!


	7. In which shit gets real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi's plan is derailed by less-than-viable negotiation tactics. Oikawa is so done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait for the weekend to post this, but hey: go big or go home, right?  
> There's only the epilogue to go after this, yay! 
> 
> All aboard the Angst train to Nopeville...

Oikawa tried to wriggle his way out of his restraints without success. All he ended up with were rope burns on his wrists. He was sitting up with his back against the wall, contemplating his next move when the door was opened. 

Three men entered. The first one, a tall, bald man dressed in all black stopped by the door and pointed at him. “Get him up. Put the bag on his head.”

He was unceremoniously grabbed by his arms and pulled to his feet, then a black bag was dropped on his head, cutting off his sight. “Where are we going?” he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

“We’re going for a ride. Be quiet.”

Oikawa thought it best to comply. He knew there was a very good chance they were taking him somewhere to be shot so they wouldn’t have to bother cleaning their basement. The thought alone made his skin crawl. 

No matter how much he tried to keep feelings of fear and panic at bay, he couldn’t help it. It was terrifying. He couldn’t see where he was being taken. The bag over his head smelled like mold and something he didn’t recognize. Maybe it was better that he didn’t know what that scent was. He felt like it was better he didn’t know. 

A single line of thought floated up from somewhere deep in his mind. He wanted to see Hajime again. The idea of never seeing the grumpy expression he had on in the mornings made his stomach turn. Not hearing his gruff voice made his heart ache. The elusive little laugh… He bit his lip.

He was taken outside and shoved into a car. Someone sat in the backseat next to him and held a gun on his ribs while two others settled up front and started the car.

“You know, it might be a little less suspicious if you’d take the bag off,” he suggested. An elbow struck his nose as a response. He’d never known how painful it was to have your nose broken, but he did now. He could’ve gone without knowing.

“Shut up.”

It hurt. It hurt like hell. The piece of duct tape they put over his mouth didn’t help.

 

*

 

Iwaizumi stood in front of the car while Kuroo and Suga waited inside with Giancarlo. He glanced at his watch. It was almost time. 

_“A car’s headed your way. Blue sedan, no plates. One passenger on the backseat, I’m not seeing a driver.”_

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and he whirled around to confirm if Kuroo had heard the same he had. Judging from his expression, he had. “Shoot the tires,” Iwaizumi decided. “Shoot the fucking tires, stop the car!” 

He heard the gunshots and heard the car well before he saw it. It moved forward way too fast to stop in time, even with the tires shot and empty. 

He ran as fast as he could, and he still couldn’t reach the car before it careened off the pier and into the river. “Make sure Giancarlo goes nowhere, and find Antonov!” he yelled, and before anyone could stop him, he dove in after the car.

 

*

 

Oikawa knew he was going to die when the car stopped and the three men got out. He heard them jam something on the gas pedal, and then he was alone. He had no idea where he was, except that he was alone in a car, tied up, mouth taped up, bag over his head. The car moved forward.

It jolted when the tires were shot. He’d know that sound from anywhere. Someone was trying to stop it. 

When the car suddenly lurched downwards, he knew this was it. He heard the splash. 

Drowning? Seriously? After all he’d been through, he was going to drown in a goddamn car? Oh hell no.

The car’s movement threw him against the seat in front of him, and the bag flew off his head. The car was sinking fast. He had no idea how deep the water was, but luckily the car was filling slowly because the windows were shut. Unluckily, he had no way of freeing his hands. 

The car hit the bottom of the river. Cold water was already up to his waist. Alright. He wasn’t down too deep, he could still see with what little daylight filtered in through the water. Ignoring the water all over him, he dropped down on his back to the seat and began kicking the window. If he at least got the window open, he could have a chance of swimming out. He certainly couldn’t manage opening the lock with his hands behind his back.

He’d never tried swimming without the use of his arms, but first time for everything?

His kicks turned out to be useless against the reinforced glass. He sat back up before the water could reach his face. He screamed out his frustration behind the tape, only managing to make a muffled noise, which only served to frustrate him more. As he sat up, the water began tickling at his neck. He tilted his head up, trying to keep himself afloat. 

He took one more deep breath before he was fully submerged. 

 

*

 

When Iwaizumi finally reached the car, he saw that it was already full of water. Cursing mentally, he grabbed the handle and tried to open the door. Of fucking course it was locked. He peered in, and his eyes met the heart-wrenching sight of Oikawa sitting there, his eyes closed.

He aimed his gun at the window and shot twice. Two small holes appeared in the glass, but a spiderweb of cracks spread throughout the glass. He hit it a couple of times with the butt of his gun and finally managed to break it enough to make it fall off the door. Stupid reinforced glass. 

Iwaizumi pulled himself halfway in and grabbed Oikawa. He almost dropped him when he didn’t feel him respond to his touch, but he managed to get him out of the car completely. He looped an arm around Oikawa’s waist and began swimming for the surface.

The second they broke the surface, he tore the duct tape away from Oikawa’s mouth. “Tooru!” he called, slapping his cheek.

Oikawa’s eyes remained closed. Iwaizumi coughed and shook him. “Tooru! You little shit, come on!” he yelled, then began dragging him towards the pier. 

 

*

 

Kuroo and Suga waited for them at the pier. When they surfaced, Suga gasped when he saw that Oikawa wasn’t responding to Iwaizumi. “Shit!” 

Kuroo leaned down and helped Iwaizumi get Oikawa out of the water once he reached them. “I don’t think he’s breathing!” Iwaizumi stammered as he pulled himself up. 

Kuroo laid Oikawa down on his back, and Suga was already kneeling next to him. He checked if he was breathing and his pulse, cursing when both turned out to be negatives. He began doing chest compressions.

Iwaizumi kneeled down by Oikawa’s head, touching his hair with shaking hands. “Tooru, come on babe. This isn’t funny,” he pleaded, glancing at Suga’s hands every few seconds  
.  
After 30 compressions, Suga checked if Oikawa was breathing again. “Fuck!” he hissed, tilting Oikawa’s head back and pinching his nose shut before leaning down to give him two breaths while watching his chest rise. After no response from Oikawa, he resumed compressions. 

“Fuck!” Iwaizumi screamed, letting his forehead drop to touch Oikawa’s before he leaned back up, putting his hands on Oikawa’s cheeks. His eyes were burning, and something wet fell on Oikawa’s face. 

“Come on you nerd, don’t do shit like this,” he begged, biting his lip. “You know I need you around. Who else is gonna tell me to keep the guns out of the bedroom, or, or, makes sure I’ve seen all _Alien Invasion_ –films?”

“…27, 28, 29, 30!” Suga finished another set of compressions with a grim look. He gave another two breaths before starting a new set. “Kuroo, what’s the ETA on Evac?”

“Three minutes out,” Kuroo replied, looking uncharacteristically sombre. 

Iwaizumi ran his fingers through Oikawa’s wet hair. “Please,” he whispered and leaned down to press his lips on Oikawa’s forehead. “Please,” he begged against wet skin. “Please.”

 

*

 

Oikawa’s hand twitched. It was the only warning Suga got before he jolted, taking a gasping breath before he began to cough out water. Suga heaved a sigh of relief and helped him on his side, rubbing his back. 

Kuroo let out a long sigh as well, slumping to the ground next to them. “That was way too exciting! Can you not do that again? Like, ever?”

“Seconded,” Suga smiled at him, looking up to see the Med Evac chopper close in on their location and land near their car. He waved a hand to them in greeting. 

“Motherfucker,” Iwaizumi groaned and fell on his side, his hand still in Oikawa’s hair. He felt like he could breathe again. He watched as Oikawa retched and coughed, thanking every deity he didn’t believe in for saving him. 

Finally, Oikawa opened his eyes and met Iwaizumi’s gaze. Iwaizumi smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Oikawa whispered, his voice hoarse and rough. “What took you so long?”

Iwaizumi laughed, wiping stray tears from his eyes. “Traffic was a bitch.”

Asahi and Tanaka ran to them with a stretcher, on which they quickly lifted Oikawa. “You might wanna consider coming too, Iwaizumi,” Asahi suggested, pointing towards his arms as he put a blanket over Oikawa and fastened belts over him. 

Iwaizumi sat up and glanced at what Asahi was referring to. His arms were covered in bleeding cuts of various length and depth. The blood was beginning to mask his skin tone completely. “Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll be…” he trailed off, looking up and seeing movement by the chopper.

Three tac team guys were escorting a tall, bald man towards a van. Kuroo followed his eyes to the scene. “That’s Antonov. We caught him and two others just outside the perimeter.”

Iwaizumi stood up, taking a switchblade from his boot with the movement. “Take him to the hospital. I’ll follow you there,” he said, his voice betraying his otherwise calm manner.

Suga sprang to his feet and grabbed his arm, not letting go even when Iwaizumi flinched. “No. You’re getting on that chopper. Those men are unarmed prisoners now. If you kill them, it’s murder,” he stressed. “You’re not a murderer.”

Iwaizumi slowly turned his eyes to Suga. The medic could see the bloodthirst clear as day in them. It chilled him to the bone. 

“Let go of me,” Iwaizumi growled. 

Suga stood his ground. “No,” he countered. 

“Sugawara, I’m warning you. Let go of me, or—” 

He was interrupted by Asahi shooting an injection into his neck. He slapped a hand over the small puncture, glaring first at the taller man and then Suga. He looked betrayed before his knees buckled beneath him, prompting Asahi to catch him before he hit his head or something. 

Suga sighed and wiped his forehead. “That was a bit close for comfort, don’t you think?” he asked as Asahi hefted Iwaizumi up and over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry.

“Definitely,” the tall medic agreed, nodding to Tanaka and Kuroo. “Let’s go.”

Tanaka and Kuroo wheeled Oikawa to the chopper while Suga walked behind them. Once Oikawa and Iwaizumi were both in the chopper, strapped in and ready to go, Kuroo and Suga walked back to their car, having decided to drop Giancarlo back off to his cell before following the chopper to the nearest hospital.

As they later sat in the car, on their way to the hospital, Kuroo cleared his throat. “So, good on you for standing up to Iwaizumi,” he hazarded.

Suga sighed and rubbed his temples. “Honestly, I have no idea what I would’ve done if Asahi hadn’t intervened. He had no intention of stepping down. I think he would’ve actually killed those men,” he confessed.

Kuroo shook his head. “He wouldn’t have just killed them.”

Suga looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?” He was somewhat afraid of the answer.

“He would’ve made it slow, and painful,” Kuroo elaborated, not taking his eyes off the road. “They would’ve eventually begged for death, which he wouldn’t have allowed until much later.”

“Jesus Christ,” Suga shook his head, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“Wish I was,” Kuroo shrugged, driving into the hospital’s parking garage. “He’s going to be pissed as hell when he wakes up, though. I suggest you get some bourbon in him before attempting civil conversation.”

Suga rolled his eyes. “I hardly think alcohol’s the solution to this.”

“Au contraire, dear friend, alcohol is a solution,” Kuroo snickered, snapping his fingers when Suga returned his little joke with a long-suffering sigh. “What? It is!”

 

*

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

That infernal beeping noise was back. Iwaizumi mentally swore that he would rid the world of wretched beeping machines if it was the last thing he did. Starting with this one.

He felt sluggish as he opened his eyes and focused his eyes on the off-white ceiling tiles. He heard sheets ruffling somewhere to his left, so he made a concentrated effort to turn his head in that direction. 

Oikawa lied on his side, curled up beneath two blankets, sleeping. The oxygen moustache beneath his nose did nothing to tarnish the sight. There was a tiny bit of drool on his pillow. Iwaizumi smiled, watching him take one breath after another.

As if he knew he was being watched, Oikawa opened his eyes with a small noise of comfort. Locking his eyes with Iwaizumi’s, he smiled back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi returned, slowly turning to lie on his side as well. “How’re you feeling?”

“Warm,” Oikawa replied. “Cozy. Would be nicer if you weren’t all the way there.”

“Hold on,” Iwaizumi muttered, slipping out of his bed. He almost fell to the floor because his knees weren’t quite co-operative enough yet, but he managed to cross the short distance between their beds anyway and sat down on the bed. 

Oikawa shuffled back and lifted the corner of his blanket as an invitation. With a smile, Iwaizumi lied down and settled in next to him and pulled the blankets over them both, encasing them in a blanket burrito of warmth. He wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s waist, pulling him close.

Oikawa sighed, tucking his head beneath Iwaizumi’s chin. “Much better,” he smiled, closing his eyes again.

Iwaizumi traced nonsensical patterns on Oikawa’s back and closed his eyes. “Yeah. Way better.”

 

*

 

Suga watched them through the window, a soft smile on his lips. Kuroo walked up to him, munching on a burrito he’d bought from the cafeteria. He held out a cup of tea for Suga, who accepted it gratefully. 

Kuroo glanced in, then at his burrito. “Goddammit,” he muttered, finishing the wrap as quickly as he could without choking himself. “You talk to them yet?”

“No,” Suga shook his head, sipping his tea. “Looks like they just woke up. I’ll give them a little while longer. Did we get anything out of Antonov?”

Kuroo swallowed the last bite down before replying, crunching up the foil wrapper and tossing it to the bin near them. “Nothing so far. These guys are surprisingly good at keeping their mouths shut.”

“And Interpol?”

“They managed to surprise Kravchuk and take most of his crew, but the asshole’s in the wind,” Kuroo shrugged. 

“Figures,” Suga sighed.

“You know, I have a suggestion,” Kuroo said cautiously. 

Suga regarded him quietly for a moment. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Kuroo shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

 

*

 

Antonov was chained to a table in what appeared to be an interrogation room. Two-way mirror on one wall, a door on the other. He’d seen his fair share of these kinds of rooms.  
He been in his cell for two days now, every now and then taken to this room and questioned. He hadn’t spoken a word. He knew they’d have to let him go soon. 

The door opened. The usual interrogator, a tall man with messy black hair, stepped in and put a legal pad and a pencil on the table in front of him before leaving again. 

Antonov frowned. Were they expecting him to write his confession down like this? Amateurs. 

The door opened again. This time it wasn’t the same man as before, but a different man. He recognized him as the man from the docks. The stripper. 

The man sat down in the chair across the table from his, taking a sip from his cardboard cup before setting it on the table and clearing his throat. “Write down all safehouses your boss has, all his aliases, every place you can think of that he’d stay at to lie low. List every associate of his as well, anyone who could be sheltering him.”

Antonov shook his head. 

The man shrugged. “I thought you might say that,” he noted, turning to the mirror. “Cut the audio.”

They heard a small, barely distinct ‘snap’. The man leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The sleeves of his hoodie were rolled up, revealing bandages that went from his wrists at least up to his elbows. “Write down the information I asked for.”

Antonov leaned forward and promptly spat at the man’s face.

Calmly, the man wiped the spit off. Then, before Antonov could prepare himself, the chain connecting his hands to the table was yanked, and he lurched forward. His head was slammed on the table and the bandage-covered forearm settled on his throat. 

“That was rude. You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

Antonov chuckled. “Go ahead. Do your worst.”

He was released, and the man sat on the edge of the table. “Do you know who I am?” he asked casually, taking a switchblade from his pocket and twirling it in his fingers.

“The stripper. The spy,” Antonov hissed, leaning back on his chair now that he was free again.

“You’re from originally from Chechnya, aren’t you?” the man inquired, switching gears suddenly. 

He smirked when Antonov’s expression turned from defiant to confused. “I spent quite a bit of time in that region some years ago, before I got my current job. They had a very specific nickname for me during my time there. Would you like to know what they called me?”

Antonov no longer had any idea what was happening here. “What did they call you?” 

The man leaned to whisper the name in his ear. 

Antonov blanched. All blood escaped his face, leaving him pale as a ghost. The chain began rattling due to his hands shaking. “You’re lying. I heard he was killed in Grozny.”

“They came close,” the man sighed. He tilted his head back, showing him a pale scar beneath his chin. “Captain Dreykov, in particular. You remember Dreykov, don’t you? I believe he was one of your commanding officers,” he commented. “He was smiling from ear to ear when I last saw him.”

Antonov clenched his teeth. 

The man leaned back, opening the switchblade in one quick move. “So, now that you know who I am, you also know what I do to people who don’t do as I ask. Write down the information I asked for.”

Antonov grabbed the pen and began writing furiously. The man watched as he listed every single place he knew, twirling the blade. “If you leave out any detail, I will know.” 

After a few minutes of furious scribbling, Antonov shook his head. “This is everything. This is all I know, I swear.”

The man plucked the pen from his fingers, tucking it behind his ear before taking the legal pad and reading through the information. He nodded to the people behind the mirror. The door opened again, and the same man who’d brought the legal pad and the pen took the pad away and closed the door again, leaving them alone again.

“Alright. Let’s say I believe you,” he pondered, “let’s say I believe this is all you know.”

“It is, I swear it,” Antonov appealed. “I would like to go back to my cell now.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Back to your cell? Oh, of course. Whatever you want,” he nodded.

Then he plunged the switchblade down on Antonov’s right hand, nailing it to the table almost effortlessly.

Antonov howled in pain and tried to grab the knife to pull it out. The man was quicker. He produced another knife from behind his back and nailed his left hand to the table as well, neatly next to the other. 

“You hurt someone very important to me. You go back to your cell when I’m done with you,” the man hissed.

 

*

 

Daichi turned away from the window when Iwaizumi drove the first knife into Antonov’s hand. Kuroo returned and gave him the legal pad. He read through it and handed it back. “Get this to Akaashi, have him relay the information to Interpol. Let them deal with the rest of this mess,” he decided.

Kuroo nodded, and was about to head out when he stopped at the door and looked into the other room. “Um. Not that I mind all this, the asshole clearly is getting what’s due, but are you okay with this?”

Daichi glanced back just as Iwaizumi took the pen from his ear and twirled it between his fingers. “Generally speaking, I am against torturing. On this occasion…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I find I mind it slightly less than I thought.”

Kuroo smirked. “I hear ya, boss,” he replied, waving goodbye as he headed out towards the Control room. 

 

*

 

A week later, Daichi sat in his chair, leaning back as he read through Iwaizumi’s report. Iwaizumi lounged on the chair across the desk from him, playing with his phone while he waited. 

Eventually Daichi closed the file and put it back on his desk. “So,” he began conversationally, “this is… graphic.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Have I ever written a report that wasn’t?” he looked up, meeting Daichi’s eyes.

Daichi held his gaze evenly. “You know Suga is still calling for disciplinary action towards you?”

“He’s well within his rights to do so,” Iwaizumi agreed. “I did disobey a superior.”

“The punishment he recommends is a medical leave of no less than three months and ten one-hour sessions with a therapist.” Daichi glanced at the file. “I’m inclined to agree.”

Iwaizumi waited for the surge of aggression to pass before responding. “Therapy. He thinks I need therapy? Why? Because what occurred was essentially a honeypot op?” he demanded.

“No, because you tortured a man until he died,” Daichi countered. “In the time you’ve worked for us, you’ve successfully completed more missions than any other agent, alive or dead. However, taking your past and recent events into account—”

“You know what?” Iwaizumi stood up, levelling a glare at his boss. “Fine. I’ll sit those ten hours with a fucking shrink, but I’m not sitting on my ass for three months. Two.”

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Suga originally wanted 20 hours with a therapist. Are you actually bargaining with me on this?” he argued.

“Yes, and here’s why—”

He suddenly heard Giancarlo's voice in his head. It was somewhat blurry, but certainly intelligible. _“One of your little dancer-friends ratted you out. Little Carmen likes the extra money.”_

Daichi stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Iwaizumi? Are you alright?” he asked cautiously.

“We need track down Carmen,” Iwaizumi insisted, completely forgoing his attempt at bargaining a shorter sick leave. “She’s involved. I don’t know how much, but she is. She’s the one who told Martin I wasn’t actually a dancer.”

Daichi frowned. “Do you have a last name?” he grabbed his phone, hitting speed-dial for their mission control. 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Never heard it, but she’s got a prior record for solicitation.”

Daichi relayed the information to whoever was on call on mission control, and then hung up. “They’re working on it. It’s been a week, she might be gone as well.”

“I know, but we have to try. She can’t get away scot-free,” Iwaizumi concluded, heading to the door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Iwaizumi stopped, his hand on the door knob. “Mission control?” he hazarded, already knowing the answer.

Daichi shook his head. “Sit your ass back down. You’re not going anywhere until we’re done here.”

With a deep sigh, Iwaizumi turned on his heels and sat back down as requested. “I’ve already agreed to your stupid therapy, what more do you want?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

Daichi watched him for a moment before coming to a decision. “Two month leave, and you agree to a full physical examination. I know you only let Suga do a blood test and the full spectrum of STI tests when you got back.”

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw again. “I’m fine. I’m walking on my own two feet and all.”

“Yes you are,” Daichi conceded. “But I was thinking more along the lines of MRIs and scans.”

That threw Iwaizumi off. “What?”

Daichi sighed. “I want to make sure the GHB didn’t leave you with any other brain trauma than memory loss. Keeping in mind all the other blows to the head you’ve taken in recent years, I think a full scan is long overdue.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a groan. “I hate that stupid fucking tube. It’s just a huge-ass magnet, what the hell…”

 

*

 

Oikawa sat out in the hall when Iwaizumi finally re-emerged from Daichi’s office, looking forlorn and surly. “How’d it go?” he asked cheerfully, standing up and linking their arms together.

“Wanna guess?” Iwaizumi grumbled, nudging his shoulder a bit as they began heading back to their rooms. 

“Hmm,” Oikawa put his forefinger on his jaw, pondering. “Considering how keenly Suga’s been asking about your mood, I’d say he wants you to see a shrink?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Ten hours, plus a two-month leave. What the hell am I going to do for two months? And why aren’t you in bed? I thought you had another week of bedrest!” 

“I wanted to walk with you,” Oikawa grinned. “Also, I’m high as shit on Suga’s best cocktail of pain drugs, so I’m basically walking on a cloud, and the walls are full of rainbows.”

Laughing, Iwaizumi shook his head. “I should’ve known. Come on then, Space Nerd, I’ll make you some coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, happy endings all around! After all the shit I put these boys through, I think they deserve a little fluff.  
> Stay tuned for the epilogue, we'll wrap up some loose ends. Thanks for reading!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old scores are settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand I'm done! This fic's finally complete. What a riot it was to write, and what a riot it was to read all your comments :D Thanks guys, I really appreciate the support <3   
> I'm brainstorming the next part in the series, I've got a couple of ideas I think could work in this 'verse. 
> 
> Enough about that, enjoy the fic!

Carmen left the bank, putting her sunglasses on and looking around as she walked to her car. The suitcase in the passenger seat made her smile. She sat behind the wheel and was about to start the car when she felt the cold barrel of a gun on the back of her head. 

“Hello there.”

Her eyes widened at the familiar voice. She looked at the rearview mirror, and met Kuroo’s eyes. 

Kuroo smiled. “A little birdy tells me you’ve been bad. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

She bit her lip. “What happens?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Kuroo’s smile turned malicious. “They go to a very bad place full of very bad people.”

 

*

 

Saeko entered the facility with some suspicion. She’d been invited to give her statement on the events, but she was slightly apprehensive about being in a building with no outside identifiers. 

There weren’t any identifiers inside, either. It didn’t really help.

She came across a reception desk of some sort, behind which a young, dark-haired man sat in front of a computer. He looked up with a smile. “Hello! You must be Saeko-san, Tanaka’s sister?”

Saeko frowned. “How’d you know that?” 

His smile widened. “It’s my job to know these things,” he replied, standing up. “You’re here for the meeting with Daichi-san?” he motioned for her to follow him.

“Sawa-something, yes,” she agreed, doing as he suggested. 

“I’m Ennoshita, his assistant. Have you seen your brother yet? He should be somewhere around here,” Ennoshita asked. 

“No, I just got here,” Saeko shook her head. Alright. This guy wasn’t so bad. At least he seemed nice. 

“I’ll give him a call and ask him to come over here after your meeting’s done. He’s been gushing about you for years!” Ennoshita babbled. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Saeko grinned, a lightbulb flicking on in her mind. “You're Chikara, aren't you?”

Ennoshita’s steps faltered a bit before he managed to reel in the surprise. “Um, yes I am? Why?”

They arrived at Daichi’s door, and Ennoshita knocked. When Daichi called from the other side, he opened the door. “Tanaka-san’s here to see you,” he said by way of announcing her.

Daichi stood from his seat, walking around his desk. “Good, send her in, please.”

Ennoshita opened the door wider and smiled to Saeko. “Can I bring you something to drink, or eat?”

“Since you asked, I’d love a cup of coffee. Maybe an Irish one?” she grinned, grabbing his shoulder to stop him before he could move away. She leaned in to speak in a low voice. “He talks about you, too,” she teased, letting him go and walking in.

Ennoshita, flushed scarlet, hurriedly closed the door and headed for the kitchen. 

Daichi raised a questioning eyebrow at Saeko as she sat down on the sofa. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged, leaning back and crossing her legs elegantly. “Ryuu likes him. He obviously likes Ryuu, so why not give him a little nudge,” she replied cheerfully.

Daichi sat on an arm chair across the coffee table and smiled. “You’re observant.”

“In my line of work, you have to be,” she admitted. 

“I’d actually like to talk to you about that, as well, but first I’d like to hear your side of the events.”

 

*

 

Tanaka was waiting for her by the same desk she’d found Ennoshita from after she and Daichi finished talking. She grinned slyly when she saw the two of them talking, her brother animatedly explaining something while Ennoshita listened with an exasperated but fond expression.

Her brother finally looked up and saw her after she’d been standing there for a full minute. “Sis! Hey!” he cheered, jumping to give her a bone-crushing hug. “How are ya?”

She smiled, hugging him back before pulling back and giving him a noogie. “Hella good! How are you, you little monster? Come on, take your big sis out for lunch or something!”

She put her arm around Ryuu’s shoulder as they headed out, turning at the door to wink at Ennoshita. To her delight, his eyes widened and he blushed before he turned his attention to the computer screen in front of him.

“So, you and Daichi-san hashed out the case?” Ryuu asked once they were outside and walking towards her car. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Told him all I know and all I saw.”

“Awesome,” Ryuu punched the air excitedly. “What’d he say?”

“Nodded a lot. And offered me a job.”

“WHAT?! No way!”

“Yeah, way. Oh, by the way, you should totally ask that guy out. I bet he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“What—I… What?! Don’t change the subject!”

 

*

 

Giancarlo stared at the ceiling of the transport van. After a month in a cell, he was finally being shipped off to some remote prison in the middle of nowhere. Two masked men had shoved him into the back of the van, tied him up so he couldn't move, and slammed the doors. He’d rolled his eyes at the theatricality of it all, but he supposed these people didn’t have much entertainment.   
He was curious as to where they’d send him. He had friends all over the world. They’d have to work pretty fucking hard to find a place he couldn’t get out of after some arrangements. 

After a while, the van stopped. Giancarlo frowned. Since he was fairly sure he knew where the Agency’s HQ was, the trip to the airport shouldn’t have taken this long. They must’ve changed routes, or something similar. 

He heard the doors open at the front, signalling that the two men were indeed stepping out. The back doors were opened. 

Well, shit. 

“Miss me?” Iwaizumi asked, smirking maliciously. Beside him, Oikawa stood with a zipped-up duffel bag. 

Was it just him, or did the bag move?

“Terribly, _caro_. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Giancarlo inquired nonchalantly, leaning back and relaxing his stance. It was probably in his best interests to appear nonthreatening. 

“We just wanted to say goodbye,” Oikawa quipped, setting the bag down on the floor of the van. “Seeing as you’re going away soon.”

“How thoughtful,” Giancarlo stated. “I’m sure you won’t be missing me for too long.”

Shit. The bag definitely moved. Fuck. 

Iwaizumi set a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder and sighed before climbing into the van. Giancarlo only now noticed the large plastic canister he carried. “You know, I think you thought we wouldn’t consider the fact that your network of associates is about as long as your list of crimes,” he commented, glancing at the bag before looking up at Giancarlo again. “But we did.”

Oikawa smiled politely. “We figured that it just wouldn’t do if you were to talk your way out of whichever prison or deserted island we shipped you off to,” he added. 

“Truly an unseemly thought,” Iwaizumi agreed. 

“So we decided on another course of action,” Oikawa finished. 

“You won’t be talking your way out of this,” Iwaizumi assured him. He opened the canister and began pouring a thick, reddish-brown sludge on Giancarlo. 

Giancarlo squirmed, frowning when some of it dropped on his face. He licked at it and tasted... Barbecue sauce?

Once he had emptied most of the canister all over him, Iwaizumi made sure to make a sauce trail from him to the bag before he tossed the canister out and hopped off the van. “Goodbye, Giancarlo. See you in hell,” Iwaizumi concluded, slamming one of the doors shut.

Oikawa pushed the bag closer to his feet and leaned over to unzip it. When Giancarlo heard the squeaking, his heart stopped. He looked up at Oikawa in terror.

“No,” he whispered. “You can’t do this. You can’t let him—”

“Him?” Oikawa pointed his thumb at Iwaizumi, who leaned on the door. “No. This was my idea. Sayonara, fuckwit.”

Oikawa gave the bag one last shove. “They're super hungry, by the way,” he chirped before slamming the other door shut as well. 

Giancarlo stared at the bag. There had to be at least twenty rats. If not more. The rodents emerged from the bag like a furry, squeaky wave and followed the trail of barbecue sauce to him. 

He wasn't a religious man, but now seemed like a good time to start. _“Padre Nostro, che sei nei cieli, Sia santificato il tuo nome... ”_

The first bites to his neck and face interrupted him. Soon enough, praying was no longer an option. Only screaming was.

 

*

 

Kuroo shook his head through the rear view mirror at Iwaizumi and Oikawa as they settled in the backseat. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he declared, putting the car in gear and driving away. 

The van remained where they’d parked it, in a landfill. A few hours later, tons of garbage was piled on top of it, hiding it from view perfectly.   
Out of sight, out of mind.

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far, hope to see you back for the next bit!


End file.
